The Dragon's Heart
by 100Suns
Summary: After the unexpected and untimely death of their fellow Warden, Alistair and the group meet a helpful, yet mysterious and unlikely ally.
1. Chapter 1: A Stormy Night

_**Author's Notes: **_So, to any of those we just happened to stumble upon my story, welcome! This is my first story, well, that I've posted, so be gentle.

The plot/idea for this story came to me just by chance actually. It had come during a restless night, where I couldn't sleep. "What if my P.C. died?" I thought to myself. (I was playing as a human noble, Elissa Cousland). How would the party members react? How would Alistair react? And what if they met someone...someone else who would help them. Since then, only more sleepless nights followed as a story started to create itself in my head and a new character started to develop, with an interesting past. It came to the point where the ideas in my head had to be written out. I was loosing too much precious sleep over it.

But enough about that. Just thought I'd give a little background info on where the story came from. Mind you, the story is based on the gameplay that happens in Dragon Age: Origins, but I do have a terrible memory so if any events are in the wrong place or something, don't be alarmed. I took some liberities of changing some things, adding in bits here, skipping parts there, so that it would fit with this new character that I have envisioned. Also, the whole time line of the game has me completely confused. I have no idea how long everything was supposed to take, so I just based the time line of this story (such as for travelling, fighting the blight, gathering treaties...etc) on how long I thought it had taken them.

I thank any one who actually took the _time_ to read this, and reviews will always be welcome. I could use suggestions/comments/opinions on what you think and how I could make it better.

* * *

**Chapter One: A Stormy Night**

_It was a dark day in Denerim; the city folk had just heard that Teryn Loghain was announcing himself as king, a group of weary fighters sat quietly in the corner of a tavern, mourning the loss of their leader and friend, and a hooded, shadowed figure walked quietly through the alley ways in the downpour of rain. None of them knew that, by the force of what may have been the Maker or just pure coincidence, all their paths would cross, and their lives would change forever._

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Alistair stared out the window as rain poured. The tavern was full of hustle and bustle, mainly those who had been caught in the rain and now seeked warm refuge. He sighed and turned back to the third glass of ale in front of him. He felt the table's eyes on him and he looked up to meet their gazes; Morrigan on the edge, Zevran next to her, then Leliana and Sten on his left.

"Here you are," Smiled the tavern maid cheerfully, and placed their food down on the table.

"Thank you, Madam," Zevran smiled. She winked at him as she left.

"And they call this food?" Morrigan inquired as she poked it, "It looks like someone cut up a piece of darkspawn and put it on a plate."

"Just shut it, Morrigan. Just eat it," Alistair snapped; he wasn't in the mood for her self-righteous attitude. He cut off a piece and put in his mouth.

"On the other hand…it tastes just as bad as it looks." He spat it back out and pushed the plate away.

"You should be grateful you even have food to eat," Sten replied, already half finished with his plate.

"Here, you can have mine then." Morrigan pushed her plate across the table.

"Gladly." Sten placed the meat onto his plate.

"Well, if we're not about to receive any real food, I think I'd like to retire to my room. All of this," She motioned to the din of the tavern, "is starting to make my head ache." Morrigan got up and walked over to the other side of the tavern, where the stairs led up to their rooms that they had rented for the time being. Alistair stretched across the table for Morrigan's glass of ale. A gentle had stopped him.

"Do you think that is the best way to deal with this?" Leliana asked him.

"Right now," Alistair took hold of the glass, "it's the only way I know how."

"I understand you're grief, I feel it too…but drowning the pain in alcohol will not fix it."

"Even a temporary fix is better than none." He took a swig from the glass.

"My good man," Zevran started, "I know I have not been with you very long, but let me just say, we all feel the same pain at the moment. Even the Quanari, who doesn't show any emotion."

"You know nothing of the sort!" Alistair cried, picking up the dagger that had been lying on the table, now pointing it at Zevran's throat, "You shouldn't even be here! And neither should he," he continued, now pointing at Sten.

"Alistair, please-" Leliana tried to speak but was interrupted.

"Maybe, but it was she who saw it in her heart to give us another chance. If it was not for her, we'd surely be dead," Zevran replied to Alistair.

"He is right," Leliana agreed.

"Enough!" Alistair slammed the dagger into the table top, standing up. The tavern now had fallen into silence, "You should be dead, both of you, that's what you deserve. But she was too kind for her own good and didn't know any better, so she dragged you along. She should have killed you there on the spot or left you to die at the hand of darkspawn. That would have been more fitting!"

"Please, Alistair, calm down. Do not do this," Leliana stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Sit down." She could see the owner of the tavern beginning to grow agitated. One fight would cause a mass brawl.

"Leave me alone, woman!" He shrugged her off. Leliana stared at him in shock.

"Grey Warden or not, I'm not standing for a fight here in my pub," The owner said as he walked over to their table, "Now shut up or get out."

Alistair narrowed his eyes at him, "I'm a paying patron. You cannot kick me out."

"Watch me, boy."

Before anyone could stop him, Alistair had clambered over the table top and lunging at the tavern owner. But, he was a stumbling idiot and could not direct his punches. So, it was not difficult for the tavern owner to place a square punch on the jaw, sending Alistair crashing to the floor. The owner opened the door, while Alistair spat out blood, picked him up and threw him out into the mud and rain.

"And don't come back and until you've sobered up!" The owner shouted at him angrily over the pouring of the rain, throwing out Alistair's dagger too. "You are a disgrace to the Grey Warden's name." He gave Alistair one last look and slammed the door shut.

Alistair forced himself onto his feet, picking up the dagger. The blood that had dried on it washed off, running down his hand and dripping into the mud. _Blood…so much blood…so much death, already seeped into this land…_He sheathed the dagger before setting off in the opposite direction of the tavern. He wanted to be as far away from it at the moment as possible. He stumbled in the mud as his boots slipped; his drunkenness was not helping either. His armour clinked as he walked, echoing on the buildings around him. There was not a soul out in this rain; not even a mouse. Even the darkspawn would have crawled back into the ground to get away from it.

"What do they know? Bah!" He spat out another mouthful of blood, "Nothing. Nothing, that's right. They knew nothing of her. Nothing, nothing…"

By now he was soaked to the bone and the cold had started to set in. He shivered, and there were not many places that he could try to get out of the rain. And at this time of night, no one would be willing to take in a drunken solider like himself…especially not a Grey Warden. Not with the reputation they had at the moment…the tavern owner had willingly given them the rooms, for a discounted price aswell, because his father had been a Grey Warden and knew that they were not capable of the treachery that was being rumoured. He had also promised to keep their presence a secret. He had no choice but to go back to the tavern…but he was not ready. Not yet. He walked a little further before spotting a covered alley way. He ran to take advantage of its shelter. It was not much, but at least it would keep him a bit drier.

There was an uneasy presence in the alley. Alistair looked over his shoulder, but could not see anything further down its blackness. It was not darkspawn…he knew that. His senses would have gone wild by now, and they would have attacked. It was probably just the alcohol. He turned back to view the street. Out of nowhere, he felt a sharpened pain hit him in the back, and before he could reach for his dagger, was pinned to the wall, with the blade pressed to his jugular. _Definitely not darkspawn…_Alistair thought.

"Coin," The hooded figure demanded.

"I have none," Alistair replied; he could not see the figure's face. The blade pressed a little closer.

"I swear, I have none!" Alistair pleaded.

"Wasted all on ale, no doubt," The figure replied. Alistair was shocked to hear that it belonged to a woman, "I guess, I'll just have to kill you then."

"Do you really want to kill a Grey Warden?" Alistair was hoping that his thief didn't believe the rumours that had been going around. He was in luck; he felt the blade lessen on his throat. The figure hesitated. Alistair didn't know what to expect next. He would either have his throat slit or be spared.

"Grey Warden?" The dagger lessened on his throat even more.

"That's right," Alistair saw his moment, but he was too slow for the thief. Now his arm was pinned awkwardly against his back, and the dagger back on his neck.

"Stupid move for a Grey Warden," the thief whispered in his ear, "but then again, I would have expected a Grey Warden to have disarmed me by now. I am sorely unimpressed."

Alistair decided to keep his mouth shut for now. There were a few uneasy moments, with the dagger's edge pressed close to his throat.

"Fine…go," The thief released his arm and pushed him away from her, "Before I change my mind." Alistair didn't know what to make of this woman or what just happened. He walked back out into the rain.

"Grey Warden!" The figure called to him. He turned around. She now stood in the rain and the moonlight hit her crimson cape, still not giving her face away. "I think this belongs to you." She threw him the dagger, and he caught it by the handle. Alistair caressed the dagger in his hand, the emerald green hilt, with dragons etched, and intertwined with each other, on the blade. When he looked back up, the woman was gone. He hadn't even heard her leave.

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_**Author's Notes: **_Well, I hope that was enjoyable! I hope that it has convinced you to read on, and hopefully you will.

This is a very...different side of Alistair. One not shown in the game. Well, when I played through it anyway. This is how I imagined Alistair would deal with the death of his fellow Grey Warden. Don't worry he isn't moppy and depressed and drunk all the time! His cheerful, bubbly self will be along in no time!

Also, if anyone could give me some tips on editing these things, layout wise, I can't get breaks where I want them, or take them away like I want either.


	2. Chapter 2: An Unexpected Reunion

**Chapter Two: An Unexpected Reunion**

"You are a witch of the wild are you not, yes?" Zevran asked.

"For the last time, you impotent elf, if you wish to call me one then so be it," Morrigan grumbled. "We have been in each other's company for how long and you still have yet to settle the matter?"

"You still have not actually answered my question."

"Do you wish me to turn you into a toad? Will you then shut your mouth?" Morrigan threatened.

"I quite like my looks, so no thank you."

Alistair just rolled his eyes as he listened to his companions banter on. Thankfully he needn't be the one to annoy Morrigan anymore. Zevran was here now to do that.

They were making their way through the Brecilian Forest, in search of the Dalish Elves that inhabited it somewhere.

"Shhh…" Alistair put out his hand to signal everyone to stop. He listened intently. The birds chirped and the wind rustled through the leaves. He looked around, his eyes meeting with Sten, who nodded slightly. He had heard the noise too.

"I do hope that it's not one of those trees again," Zevran whispered, pulling out his daggers, "I'm quite sick and tired of them jumping up out of nowhere." Everyone now had their weapons ready in hand.

"I quite liked the rhyming one," Morrigan said sarcastically. An arrow whizzed past her ear and into the ground next to her. The group scattered as more arrows were fired at them; they seeked camouflage amongst the trees and bushes. They couldn't fight an enemy they couldn't see. Alistair knelt down behind a thick bush and listen around him. He heard the shuffle of footsteps nearby. He followed the sound as it grew closer. It was soft and careful treading. He then saw someone's legs. They didn't belong to any of his companions. They moved forward slowly; Alistair held his breath. He launched out from behind the push and knocked the enemy to the ground. He held his sword at its throat and a foot on its chest. It took him a moment to see that it was a Dalish Elf, the ones they had been looking for.

"Go ahead, kill me, stranger. But you will not get far," The elf spat at him.

"I'm not going to kill you," Alistair removed his foot and sheathed his sword, "I apologize, I do not want to fight. I just want to talk."

"And what makes you think we elves want to talk to you, Shemlen? You trespass on our land and then assault one of us? You are not welcome here." The elf glared at Alistair as he got up.

"Well, you attacked us first. It was purely self-defence. But I am a Grey Warden and I seek the help of the Dalish."

"Grey Warden?" The elf seemed taken aback; he hesitated before continuing, "Well…then you'll have to come with me." The elf turned to the road and Alistair followed. He sounded a call and other elves emerged from the thickets and brush, with the rest of his group held captive.

"Let them go," The elf ordered, "He is a Grey Warden. The Keeper will know what to do with them." Morrigan, Zevran, Sten and Leliana had the arrows lowered from their heads and joined Alistair's side.

"Come." The elf gestured for them to follow him.

x x x x x x x x x x x

"I am Zathrian. I am the Keeper. I apologize for the ambush, Grey Warden. We are only trying to protect the land we live on."

"I understand," Alistair replied.

"Very well," Zathrian continued, "I understand you seek the help of the Dalish? No doubt coming here to remind us of the treaties we have signed a long time ago. If we had men to spare, I would very willingly send them with you to help you stop The Blight…but frankly, we are just not able. I am sorry."

"We have travelled for three days, straight from Denerim -"

"Three days?" Zathrian raised his eyebrow, "That was very quick."

"The need to end The Blight is an urgent one," Alistair replied. "Are you telling me that we travelled all this way only to leave empty handed?"

"There must be something you can do to help," Leliana pleaded.

Zathrian sighed, "Follow me." The group followed the Keeper through the elf settlement. They tried to ignore the dirty looks and stares they received. Alistair knew the Elves disliked the humans, for all the slavery and mistreatment, but he hadn't been expecting _such_ hostility. They entered a sectioned off part of the settlement. Many elves were lying out on make shift beds, some writhing around in pain, others lying dead still and their skin glistening with sweat. Two or three female elves, presumably nurses and healers, took their time with each patient, trying to calm them or ease their pain.

"What happened here?" Leliana asked as they looked around.

"We moved back to the Forest about a month ago. All was fine until a few days ago. We were ambushed…" Zathrian explained.

"By whom?" Alistair asked.

"Werewolves."

"Werewolves? Well, that was not expected," Said Morrigan, "An ambush? How I have underestimated them. I always believed them to be mindless beasts."

"And yet they _were_ always mindless beasts, killing mercilessly and with no warning. But this…this ambush…" Zathrian looked sadly at his befallen comrades, "This was premeditated and intelligent. It seems they have grown to overcome the curse that befalls them…" He turned to Alistair, "As you can see Grey Warden, we are in no situation to help you, as much as I would like to. We are just not capable."

"And what will happen to them?" Sten spoke up.

"They…they will either die from the fever that runs rampant in their bodies…or will turn into beasts themselves, where it will then be necessary to…to slay them."

"Is there no way to help them?" Leliana asked.

"We have tried everything…nothing works."

"Nothing?"

"Well…there is one last resort but it is a dangerous option. I have already sent my best hunters out to complete the task…but none have returned…"

"What is it?" Alistair asked sternly.

"All the werewolves in this forest stem from one wolf, Witherfang. He is old and wise and powerful. If he could be slain, and his heart brought to me, maybe I could break the curse." Zathrian explained to them, "But as I already have said, I've sent out my best hunters days ago and none have returned. I presume them all to be dead by now…"

"What if we were to kill Witherfang for you and bring you his heart?" Alistair suggested, "If you broke the spell and healed your people -"

"Then we could live up to the treaty and help the Grey Wardens fight The Blight, yes."

"Then it's settled. We will find Witherfang for you."

"What?" Morrigan grabbed Alistair's arm, "And risk being mauled to death by these beasts? I think not."

"But we must help them, Morrigan…Can you not see how they suffer?" Leliana tried to persuade her.

"We are already here. We might as well try and help. We need all the help we can get." Alistair pulled his arm free from Morrigan's grasp.

"I do not look forward to being turned into a werewolf, mind you." Morrigan pouted, arms folded.

"Then you can stay here and put your herbalism skills to use and help these people," Alistair spat back.

"Now, now, Grey Warden…the Witch is right. It is a perilous task. I would not ask you to risk your lives, but your help would be greatly appreciated."

"We will help you, Zathrian. We will help save your people."

"Thank you, Grey Warden. Thank you…all of you. If there is anything you need, supplies, weapons, anything, speak with Varathorn. He will give you whatever you need."

"Thank you."

"If you seek guidance on your task, please speak with Elora, Sarel or Lanaya. They will answer any questions you may have. Oh, Lanaya!" He called a girl over, "Please show our friends where they are able to set up camp." The girl gave them an unfriendly look but bowed to Zathrian.

"As for me," He turned to them once more, "I need to attend to my people. Excuse me." And with that he left them.

"Follow me," Lanaya said to them in a monotone voice. She was not particularly happy about the task she had been given, but obviously wouldn't disobey the orders of their Keeper. They followed her to a clearing near the edge of the camp. It was in the alcove of the mountain's walls. _At least nothing will attack from behind…_Alistair thought to himself. There was a fire pit and sturdy trees to erect their tents.

"Is there anything else you seek, Shemlen?" Lanaya asked.

"No. Thank you."

"Do not try anything. I will be watching you, all of you." She turned on her heel and hurried back off into the settlement.

"People aren't so friendly here…" Zevran stated, "But I can understand that."

"You're an elf, you're supposed to," Morrigan said coldly.

x x x x x x x x x x x

The sun had just started to fall past the horizon. Alistair, Zevran, Sten, Morrigan and Leliana sat around their campfire eating the meal that one of the older elves had brought them. She had been more welcoming to them and had even sat with them for a while to listen to some of the stories of their travels. There was a commotion as some of the children starting giggling and laughing loudly. They all turned to see what it was all about. There was a new comer to the settlement. They wore a green cape, and as the person walked passed, was followed by a group of children and Zathrian and Lanaya. One of the children reached up and pulled down the hood of the cape. Alistair felt a strange feeling of recognition come over him. He looked on as the woman spun around, picked up the giggling child and put him over her shoulder and tickle him. She didn't look elven, so she must have been human. Why they treated her so well was anyone's guess. The stranger must have felt five pairs of eyes on her, for she looked straight at them as she continued to another campsite just a little further than theirs. Alistair felt as if the woman was looking straight at him. He watched as she sat down with Zathrian and some of the other clan, around the fire. She looked back over her shoulder at Alistair and the group.

"Who is she that they treat her like one of their own?" Leliana asked out loud.

"Who knows…" Zevran replied.

"She is not an elf, no?"

"No, she's not. She's definitely a human…" Alistair watched as they all laughed together. He was not envious of her. He did not care if the elves liked him or not, as long as they helped the Grey Wardens fight The Blight. But what he did care about was the nagging feeling that he had seen this woman before.

x x x x x x x x x x x

Alistair stood up from next to the fire. Morrigan and Leliana had both retired to their tents, Zevran had been chatting up some pretty elven girls and Sten was sharpening his weapons. No one would notice that he'd be gone. He walked across the now quiet settlement, only a few elves were still up. Alistair walked over to the other camp fire to where the new comer was sitting. The elves had left her to herself. They obviously knew each other well for them to trust her so much as to not have someone watching her the whole time. As he walked up, she was rummaging around in the pack of hers, and her cloak folded next to her. She sat cross legged in front of the fire, staring at it. She must have heard him coming because she looked in his direction and stood up when he got to her.

"I…I hope I'm not disturbing you?" Alistair asked.

"No, not at all," She replied, giving him a small smile, "Sit down." She motioned for him to sit where ever he liked. He thanked her and sat down on a log, while she sat back down in her place.

"I am Alistair, by the way."

"Kyra," She smiled back. Silence spread over them. He didn't really know what to say or how to say it. Kyra started removing the bracers from around her forearms. Alistair took her in from the corner of his eye. She wore a crimson shirt under a black corset styled shirt. One sleeve came three quarters of the way down her arm, while the other just covered her shoulder. She wore a silver dragon coiled around her upper arm. She had on a black skirt with leggings underneath and ankle high boots, with black leather gauntlets strapped around her calves. Around her neck hung a silver pendant; what though, he could not make out. Her hair was short; cut just under the jawline and a single, small braid, with beads braided in between her chestnut coloured hair. When she tucked her hair in behind her ear, Alistair saw that she had multiple earrings in her ear – two at the top, and three down at the bottom. He'd never seen any woman wear earrings in such a way before. She had soft features, and a fair skin. She looked so much like…_No! No, Alistair. No…Don't do this –_

"Zathrian tells me that you and your companions intend on going into the Brecilian Forest to look for Witherfang?" She said.

"That is true, yes. We are hoping that once we bring back the heart of Witherfang, Zathrian will be able to break the curse." Kyra looked at him. There was something in her eyes…something different, as if she knew of something which he didn't. It was probably just the low light of the fire.

"He also tells me that you are a Grey Warden?"

"That too is true."

"You Grey Wardens have a handsome bounty on your heads."

"Well, then I guess that it's a good thing that I'm the only one left. Make it hard for them to find me."

"You're the last Grey Warden?" Kyra looked at him in shock.

"As far as I know, yes…" He felt a tinge of sadness.

"How can that be?"

"Many of us fell in Ostagar. I, along with a fellow Grey Warden, were the only ones to survive. As far as I know, we were the only two Grey Wardens left in Ferelden. I don't know about the others in Weisshaupt or Orlais."

"You said there were two of you. May I ask what happened to your comrade?"

"She, uh," Alistair cleared his throat, trying to hold back tears, "She died in combat a few days ago. Her injuries were too severe, and we could not save her."

"My deepest condolences to you." Kyra seemed deeply saddened by what Alistair had told her, "I did not know that women could be Grey Wardens."

"Anyone can be a Grey Warden, if they wish. She had been a new recruit, specially sought out to help us fight The Blight," Alistair explained.

"And how long have you been a Grey Warden?"

"About a year, I suppose. So much travelling makes me lose track of time."

"I understand." Kyra turned back towards the fire. There were a few moments of silence.

"The Dalish don't treat you like us. You seem very close."

"I travel through this area quite often. So by now, we've become quite acquainted with each other. They no longer fear or resent my presence and I know my place among them."

"You travel through here…alone?" Alistair asked, "Have you ever encountered the werewolves?"

"It is inevitable. If you decide to travel through the Brecilian Forest, you will see a werewolf. So to answer your question, yes I have."

"And you are still alive?"

Kyra laughed. "Warden, I know my around and I can take care of myself. Most times anyhow, they do not even notice that I am there."

"Oh, a master of stealth, are we?"

Kyra chuckled again, "You could say that." Alistair smiled back at her.

"Do you always wear a weapon on your person?" Kyra motioned to the dagger hanging from his waist.

"Force of habit, I suppose. You can never be too careful, anyhow."

"May I?"

"Oh, uh, of course." He quickly unsheathed the dagger and handed it to Kyra.

"Do not worry. I will handle it with care." She turned it over in her hands, running her fingers over the engraved dragons on the blade. "This is beautifully made. Dwarven, I assume. Folded one thousand times…and if I'm not wrong…" Kyra continued, "Enchanted with an elemental rune?"

"You can tell?" Alistair was surprised how much she could pick up just by looking at it.

"Well, it feels a little heavier than a dagger this size should and when you touch the blade, a sort of energy runs through you." Kyra stood up and swung the dagger around to get the feel of it, "Either you are richer than you look or you have very good friends."

Alistair laughed at the comment, "We have very good friends."

"Well, this is a beautiful dagger, very, very nice. I suppose it slices through darkspawn like butter." Kyra smiled. Alistair smiled back.

"Warden, not to sound…rude, but why did you come over here?"

Alistair was taken aback a little. "Well…honestly, you seem familiar. So I don't suppose that we've met somewhere before?" Kyra cocked her head to one side.

"I'm sorry. I knew that we hadn't met before. I just thought I'd ask." Alistair cleared his throat. He suddenly felt very stupid for coming over. He stood up and looked around him, "I, uh, should get going." He started to walk away.

"Grey Warden!" He felt déjà vu come over him. He turned around. The flames of the fire silhouetted Kyra, "I think this belongs to you." He caught the dagger, and he instantly knew that she was the same woman. The woman who had tried to mug him in Denerim. He looked up and saw her standing with her hands on her hips, wearing a sly smirk on her face.

"So it _is_ you!" He walked back up to her, "I knew it. When I saw you arrive, I just knew it was you!" Then it struck Alistair.

"You tried to mug me. If it wasn't for the fact that I was a Grey Warden, you would have succeeded. Possibly even killed me too." He looked up at her. The smile had faded, and had been replaced by a frown.

"I apologize, Warden, for last night. If I had known that you were a Grey Warden, I would not have-"

"You are a criminal."

"I may be a criminal, but I do not steal from those who truly need it. I take it from those who can afford to spare a few missing sovereigns and silvers. Take it from those who do not deserve it."

"And who are you to decide who deserves what?"

Kyra could feel herself growing angry, "Do not preach to me, Warden, if you have not lived in my shoes. I do what I must to survive."

"Which includes stealing and murdering people?" Kyra was surprised by how quickly his demeanour had shifted from friendly and warm to hostile.

She narrowed her eyes, and curled her hands into fists. No one understood…why she had thought that he would be any different, she didn't know. She wasn't going to take this, "Warden, I would appreciate it if you left. Now."

Alistair held her gaze for a few moments longer, before turning on his heel and stalking off back to his group's camp fire. Kyra turned around and gathered her things. She would be leaving in the morning.

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **_So it is revealed that this new character, is Kyra, a simple thief. I have a very clear image in my head of how she acts and who she is and hopefully, I will be able to portray this.


	3. Chapter 3: Just The Right Words

**Chapter Three: Just The Right Words**

The next morning came with a symphony of birds greeting the sun. Alistair had had a restless night, kept awake by thoughts of Kyra and nightmares about Darkspawn. Everyone slept for as long as they could. They were going to use this day to recuperate from the three day march from Denerim and resupply. They would set out into the forest the following morning. In addition, Wynne and Oghren hadn't seemed to arrive. They had departed from the group, after leaving Orzammar, to go visit the Circle of Magi. While in Orzammar they had found a dwarf named Dagna. She had wanted them to take a message to the Circle to ask for permission to study the theory of magic, since dwarfs were not able to physically do magic. Since Wynne was a highly revered member of the Circle, and Oghren had formed a sort of puppy crush on Wynne, they would go with Dagna to try to convince them to take her in for study. They agreed to meet at the Dalish elves camp. If they weren't there by that evening, they would have to set out tomorrow without them.

"Warden," Alistair turned around to see Zathrian coming towards him, "I see you have not yet left."

"We need to recuperate, Keeper. And resupply. The travel from Denerim was riddled with bandits and darkspawn. We will leave first thing tomorrow morning. Also, we are waiting for two members of our group, but if they do not arrive tonight, we will have to set out without them."

"That is of no problem." Zathrian smiled politely, but Alistair knew though that he'd rather have them already out there in the forest looking for Witherfang, "And if you leave without your comrades?"

"Then, would it be too much to ask if you could house them until we return? They are good people, and will respect your wishes." Alistair then thought of Oghren and thought about retracting that last part.

"We will do so for you."

"Thank you, Zathrian. One is a woman, a mage. She is somewhat older, than the rest of my group. Her name is Wynne. The other is a dwarf, Oghren. He…he may seem rude, but he is a good man. Just give him a chance."

"I will tell the hunters to look out for them."

"Thank you. Again."

Zathrian nodded his head before turning around to leave.

"Oh," Zathrian turned back to Alistair, "did you have the chance to meet Kyra? The woman who arrived last evening?"

Alistair didn't know what to say. He didn't want to say anything that would jeopardize the Warden's relationship with the elves.

"Well…" Alistair started.

"If you haven't, you should speak with her," Zathrian insisted.

"If you suggest it, then I will. But first I wish to speak with Varathorn."

"As you wish. I will tell her that you wish to speak to her." Before Alistair could stop him, Zathrian had walked off. Alistair sighed. He had an archdemon to fight; he couldn't be worried about beautiful girls who happened to be criminals.

x x x x x x x x x x x

The afternoon came and went like a cool breeze. Morrigan foraged the surrounding forest for herbs, Leliana started counting supplies, Sten readied everyone's weapons, Zevran chatted up elven girls and Alistair gathered food, medical remedies, and extra weapons and tried very hard to avoid Zathrian. By the time evening had arrived, everyone had rested themselves and they were ready to leave the following morning. During dinner, an elven hunter approached with them, with two followers.

"Wynne! Oghren! You made it!" Alistair stood up and greeted them, "I was starting to worry that we'd have to leave without you."

"What happened at the Circle?" Leliana asked as they sat down by the fire with the rest of them.

"It went splendidly. Irving very willingly agreed to take in Dagna." Wynne smiled as she sat down next to the fire.

"Ah…" Oghren sighed as he sat down, "Now I can finally rest my sodding feet. Them roads were covered in sodding Darkspawn. Thankfully we were able to get past the stupid things without them noticing."

"That reminds me…" Alistair told them about their situation and what they had agreed to do.

"Werewolves? Just what I wanted to hear," Oghren sighed.

"It is very clear what must be done, but I have to ask, Alistair, that I stay behind on this little adventure."

"Why? Are you hurt?"

"Your concern is always grateful, but I am fine. You must remember though, I am an old woman. All this travelling and fighting wears me out quickly. I also thought I might try to see if my healing won't be able to help some of these people here."

Alistair looked around at the rest of the group to see if they had anything to say. He looked back at Wynne.

"If you really feel like you must stay here, then alright. But we could always use your help."

"You managed to survive and find the Dalish, without me, did you not? You will be fine."

"Anyone else feel like staying behind?" Alistair asked them. Everyone shook their heads, "Alright, we set out tomorrow morning."

Wynne walked over Alistair. After dinner, everyone had retired to themselves, doing final preparations for tomorrow.

"Am I disturbing you?" Wynne asked, sitting down next to Alistair.

"No, no." He kept looking into the fire.

"How are doing?" She placed a soft hand on Alistair's.

"Alright, I guess." He shrugged, "I try not to think about it. But it's difficult…especially when I'm alone. When we are travelling or fighting, I'm preoccupied. At night is when it's the worse. I keep having these dreams where the darkspawn have taken her body and turning…turning her…"

Wynne squeezed his hand.

"She died honourably. Her death was not in vain."

"But I could have done something more. I could have tried harder to save her."

"We did everything possible, Alistair. Do not keeping telling yourself that there was something more."

"But we could have done something, Wynne! We could have gotten her to the next village-"

"My dear boy, I want you to listen to me. Death comes to us all. When she joined the Grey Warden's she knew that death was a possibility, as you know it too. She fought valiantly and fulfilled her responsibilities and duties. She would not want you to squander the rest of your life feeling guilty, Alistair. She would want you to slay that archdemon and live your life. She would want you to be happy." Alistair looked back at the fire. He thought of the many nights he had spent with her in front of such a fire.

"I suppose so…" He gave a heavy sigh. Alistair didn't know his mother, but he hoped that she had been something like Wynne.

"Leliana told me about what happened at the tavern," Wynne continued. Alistair gave another sigh, but this time in frustration.

"That was stupid of me. I was…drunk. Ugh." He kicked a stone in front of him, "So stupid. I should probably apologize to them, right?"

Wynne smiled at him, "They have already forgiven you, for they understand the grief that are in you. But yes, an apology would be appreciated." Alistair nodded in agreement. He turned his attention back to the fire.

"You will see. Things will turn out to be alright." Wynne smiled gently and squeezed his hand before standing up and heading over to her tent.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Yay! Everyone's grandmotherly mage, Wynne! And Oghren. He was probably one of my favorite characters, along with Morrigan. His drunkeness was quite amusing.

Anyhow, I apologize that this chapter is so short! I'll try and make it longer next time. Just don't want to have chapters that seem to go on and on and on.

Just want to say thank you once again to everyone who bothered to read this and to all the lovely people who have written reviews! I greatly appreciate it!


	4. Chapter 4: Reluctant Alliances

**Chapter Four: Reluctant Alliances**

The next morning seemed to come far too quickly to Alistair's liking. They gathered up their belongings and gathered the last bit of supplies.

"Excuse me, Lanaya?" Alistair stopped the elf.

"Yes, Shemlen?" She asked him, unimpressed.

"Do you know where Zathrian is? I'd like to talk to him one last time before we leave."

"He is over by his tent." Lanaya pointed in a vague direction before walking off.

"Thank you…" Alistair called out after her. He walked off in the direction where she had pointed. As he reached Zathrian's tent, he noticed that he was talking to Kyra, and she looked none too happy. He held back behind a tree and watched them talk for a while. Kyra was clearly upset about something, throwing her hands up in the air with anger, while Zathrian tried to reason with her. He waited for a moment where it seemed like they had finished talking, before walking over to Zathrian.

"Excuse me…" Zathrian said to Kyra, as Alistair approached, "Good morning, Warden." He smiled.

"Morning." Alistair nodded back, and glanced at Kyra. She was standing with her arms folded, looking at her feet with a scowl on her face. "We will be leaving soon," Alistair continued, "I just wanted to speak with you once more before we left. Is there nothing else we should now? Any other help or advice you could give us?"

Zathrian smiled, "Actually, I was hoping you would ask…" He turned to face Kyra as well, "Warden, have you met Kyra yet?"

"Um, well-"

"Yes, we have. Charming, he is." Kyra said sarcastically. Alistair just cleared his throat, and glanced at Kyra. He now understood the look in her eyes from last night. One eye was an icy blue while the other shone a fiery amber colour. Alistair had never seen anyone like this before, never even heard of such things. Suddenly his focus was disrupted.

"I want her to go with you, Warden."

"W-what?" Alistair was in disbelief.

"You asked for help. She will be of great help indeed. She knows these forests as well as any of our hunters and is as able with a bow as she is with a blade. She can help you."

"But, I don't understand. Why send her with us?"

"Because I believe that she will be a great asset for you, Warden, that is why!"

Alistair looked at Zathrian and then at Kyra. This is what they had probably been talking about, and she didn't seem too happy about the prospect either.

"She can make poisons, traps, hunt and is an excellent herbalist." Zathrian pressed further, "But if you wish not to take her, then I will not force it on you. I just thought you could use all the help you can get, even if it is from such an unexpected source."

"You do know that she is a criminal, right?" Alistair asked. The glare on Kyra's face burned hotter.

"Warden, I ask you not to be so quick to judge."

Alistair looked over at Kyra again. It was true that with Wynne not going, they were down one member…but even then, they were able to handle themselves just fine. Then again, her skills could come in handy. Her angry glare did not let up.

"Alright, she can come with us," Alistair agreed. He saw Kyra's expression change from anger to shock, "She better be as capable as you say. I do not want to have to carry her around because of injuries or…worse."

"I promise you, Warden, I would not have suggested Kyra go along if I didn't believe that she was capable of handling it," Zathrian replied.

"Well, if there's nothing else…then I guess we'll be off."

"Thank you, Warden, and may the Gods watch of you." Zathrian bowed before walking off.

Kyra and Alistair looked at each other.

"I guess you better come with me then," Alistair said, turning around and walking back in the direction of their camp. Kyra reluctantly followed him.

"Another stray come to join our group?" Morrigan asked as Alistair returned with Kyra.

"Zathrian suggested that we take her with. He says that she'll be able to help us."

"Can you cook?" Morrigan asked.

"Uh-"

"Morrigan!" Leliana cried.

"What? I am merely asking if she is able to cook. For then she can do it and I will be free from hearing the incessant complaining that I am trying to kill Alistair with my food." Morrigan replied.

"To answer your question: yes, I can cook," Kyra answered.

"Perfect. Then it is settled. Any more complaints about assassination attempts and poor culinary skill will be directed to her. Thank you."

"Well, it is appreciated that you are joining us." Leliana smiled, and noticed Kyra's eyes. "Oh, my! You have beautiful eyes!" Everyone drew their attention onto Kyra and her mismatched eyes.

"That is strange…very strange," Zevran stated.

"Were you born as such?" Morrigan asked who seemed genuinely intrigued.

"Yes," Kyra replied.

"Alright, alright. Enough of that. We can get to interrogating later. We have a werewolf to find, remember?" Alistair said, trying to get order again.

"I am Leliana, this is Morrigan, Sten, Oghren, Zevran, Wynne and you already know Alistair." Every one greeted Kyra still fixated on her eyes.

"I think its best that we are off. So gather your stuff and we'll leave." Alistair ordered.

Wynne walked over to Kyra, "Thank you for helping us. And please, make sure that they are safe. I believe that they will be alright, yet, I cannot help but worry."

Kyra smiled at Wynne reassuringly, "Do not worry. We will be back before you know it."

"Alright, let's go," Alistair called out and they all walked off into the forest. The fate of the Dalish was now riding on their shoulders.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Well, it seems like I didn't do good on my word from the last chapter. I think this chapter is even shorter than the last. I apologize, onces again! Also, I want to apologize at my attempt at chapter titles. I think this one is the worst out of all of them. I really suck at coming up with titles. **


	5. Chapter 5: First Impressions

**Chapter Five: First Impressions**

It had been hours since they had left the Dalish camp, and the group was now deep into the Brecilian forest. Not a werewolf to be found. In fact, it had been most uneventful. Not a bear or wolf or even a squirrel. Kyra found it strange actually. The only thing around were the birds. Not even the herds of Halla were to be seen.

Kyra had taken her place at the back of the group. From here she could observe everyone. Oghren was a dwarf; crude and blunt and seemed to be slightly drunk. Sten was tall, that was all Kyra knew. And quiet. Very quiet. Leliana was…well, Kyra didn't know what to think of her. She was pretty much the only member who had taken the effort to actually speak with her, though Kyra gave the usual friendly 'yes, no' and one line answers. Zevran was an elf and a quite…straightforward one at that. He had already let her know that she was "absolutely ravishing" and if she ever needed any "company" she could always come to him. Then there was Morrigan. Kyra could not understand why she was even there. No one seemed to like her very much, but nor did they seem to hate her all that much as well. And Alistair, well, he kept his distance up front in the group.

What amazed Kyra the most of about them, was their…if you could say, naivety. They each carried heavy packs, filled with camping supplies, cooking supplies, medical supplies, food, armoury, weapons, and the Maker knew what else. All Kyra had was her pack with some medicinal supplies, cooking utensils, some personal items, her cloak and what she wore on her back. And all the traps they passed. Kyra must have already spotted 15 traps that some member of the group had nearly gotten themselves into but just missed. They did not seem to notice this. Nor did they seem to know how to read the signs of the forest to help guide them. They referred to a map as to guide them in the general direction of the Ruins, that were rumoured to be the Werewolves stronghold, but with no real view of the horizon as a guide, they were travelling on the hope that the path would lead them to where they needed to be. At this rate, they would get to the ruins in about two weeks' time.

Suddenly, everyone stopped. Alistair had gestured for them to stop and be quiet. He stepped forward quietly. They were entering a small clearing. Alistair motioned them to kneel down. Everyone did as told. He turned to them and mouthed "Werewolves." The mood in the group changed very quickly. They were no more than 50 yards away from them, so any wrong move could have them fighting them head on. Kyra knew that this was not a good idea, especially not if it was your first time encountering them. Alistair told everyone to push back as far as possible.

"What are we going to do?" Leliana asked.

"We'll have to see if we can go around them," Alistair said.

"There's no way around," Kyra quickly replied.

"There has to be."

"Look," Kyra took the map and opened it up, "We are here." She pointed to a small clearing running along a river.

"And how can you be certain?" Alistair challenged.

Kyra glared at him before saying, "Cannot you not _hear_ the river running? Also, if you'd noticed, this tree here, this is the tree we passed under earlier. And as you can see, the only way we can go is forward. On our right there is a deep trench we would not be able to pass and on our left are the river rapids. Where the clearing is, is where the waters are calm and the river is shallow. The Werewolves know this, that's why they are there. We have to fight them." Everyone looked at each other anxiously.

"Are you certain?" Zevran asked.

"If there were any other options I wouldn't have mentioned it," Kyra replied.

Alistair sighed, "Well, let's get it over with then." He drew his sword.

"Wait! You cannot just go out there and expect to win them head on like that. Have you ever encounter Werewolves before?"

"No, but we've fought every like of darkspawn you can imagine, woman," Oghren scoffed, "Them dogs will be no problem."

"They are smart. They will overwhelm you and maul you. You will die. Horribly."

"Well, that is reassuring," Morrigan scoffed.

"Then what do you suggest?" Alistair asked her. He was running out of patience.

"Wait, here." Kyra pushed passed them while taking off the pack from her back.

"What is she going to do? Try and talk them down from killing us diplomatically?" Morrigan asked, watching her curiously.

"I have no idea," Alistair replied. They followed her quietly. Kyra pulled out her shortbow and arrows that she kept in her pack. Everyone watched as she hoisted herself up into the foliage of a tree. She moved along a branch until she had a relatively clear shot. There were about five Werewolves in the clearing. Most were sleeping but two were awake, probably keeping guard, but thankfully with their backs towards them. She pulled out two arrows and aimed them at the two guards. She pulled back on her bow as far as she could and released.

"Maker's breath!" She heard someone quietly exclaim, as the two Werewolves hit the ground. Two head shots had taken them out, no problem. She then took out the three sleeping Werewolves one by one, in a similar fashion. Kyra jumped down from the branch.

"You see, Warden? Why put yourselves in danger, when the same result can be acquired with more safety and less effort?" Kyra put her bow back in her pack. Alistair did not like the smug expression on her face.

"Are you sure they are dead?" Zevran asked, eyeing the bodies suspiciously.

"They are quite dead, yes. The arrows I use have Dragonbone tips and are laced with venom. The Dragonbone ensures that it will pierce through almost anything, and if they survive, the venom will kill them about 10 seconds later." They looked at each other in disbelief.

"Should we get moving?" Kyra asked, walking into the clearing, bending down at the first body to retrieve her arrow. Everyone else followed apprehensively, always watching the corpses for if they came back to life. But nothing happened. They wadded across the river and continued onto the other side.

"I think here is a good spot," Kyra announced. It was a large clearing in the forest, not far away from a flowing river, with a small alcove formed into the mountain wall. It was protected from the wind that had picked up and nothing would be able to attack them from behind.

x x x x x x x x x x x

"Alright. Let's set up," Alistair replied and placed down his pack. The sun was low in the sky, and their shadows were long. While travelling they had been searching for a suitable camp ground for the night, this was the best they had come across. They would be able to reach the Ruins before even afternoon tomorrow. They were now close. Twice they had come across werewolves, first a group of three, which hadn't attacked them. The largest of the group, Swiftrunner, as he had called himself, warned them to turn back because they would not succeed. Kyra didn't even know that werewolves could talk. He was not happy when Alistair had told them they would not back down from their task. They had warned them that the forest was angry at their intrusion and would do anything to stop them. They hadn't taken his words seriously until they were attacked by the second group of werewolves, probably 10 of them. It was a vicious, bloody fight, but they had been victorious and had come out with minimal injuries.

"Kyra," Alistair approached her, "I think you should attend to Zevran." Kyra gathered her herbs and medical supplies and pushed past Alistair. She really did not like being ordered around. She untied the make-shift bandages Morrigan had made for him after the battle. They had already helped to stem the bleeding. He had received four nasty gashes on his upper arm when a werewolf slashed at him unexpectedly from behind. He had reacted by swiftly slicing its head off. The wounds were deep into the flesh and would take some time to heal.

"Morrigan, could you wash those for me?" Kyra handed her the bloody bandages. She nodded quickly and headed off down to the river, with Leliana quickly behind her, just to make sure nothing happened. Kyra had noticed that Morrigan seemed like a heartless bitch, but it was obvious to see that she cared for her comrades. She fought and protected them at all costs. She may not like them, but she did not wish them to die. Kyra poured some alcohol spirits onto a cloth.

"This is going to hurt," Kyra said before attempting to clean the wounds.

"By the tits of my ancestors, Zev, stop squirming like a baby. Take it like a man!" Oghren barked as Zevran flinched from the burning of the alcohol. Zevran just glared at him.

"Here." Morrigan and Leliana returned with clean bandages and a full bowl of water.

"Thank you." She took it from them and placed it gently down next to her. Kyra pulled out a needle from her medicinal pouch.

"W-what are you going to do with that?" Zevran asked suspiciously.

"I've got to stitch the wounds up. A mere bandage won't keep the infection out."

"You are _not_ sticking that thing through my skin. I would rather die of an infection."

"Oh, come now. It is not all that bad." She wiped the needle down with some alcohol. "An infection will fester and grow and plague your whole body with fever. It isn't pleasant, trust me."

"Alright, fine," He agreed, but with a very anxious look on his face. Kyra threaded the needle with thick black thread.

"Ready?" Kyra asked him.

"No." Zevran turned his eyes away. Kyra stuck the needle into his skin and pulled it through, and it was all Zevran could do from not crying out in pain.

"Ugh…I've seen some disturbing things in my time, but this," Oghren looked like he was about to be sick, "this…is just sick. The way the skin pulls together…ugh! I'll be standing over here." He shuddered, before moving away. She quickly worked to stitched up the rest of the wounds.

"There you go." Kyra tied a final knot on Zevran's bandages and gave him a smile. He looked like he was about to pass out.

"The ointment will make your skin feel sort of warm, so don't be alarmed by that," Kyra explained, and gathered her things.

"Anyone else need injuries that need attending to?" She asked, but everyone shook their heads. Most of them had come away unscathed, with just a few scratches and bruises here or there. Kyra walked up to Alistair and Sten who had taken the liberty of setting up everyone's tent.

"Yes?" Alistair asked as she came up to him.

"Zevran's all cleaned up. He will be alright. The wounds should heal nicely now."

"Oh, well thank you."

"You are welcome. Oh, the cuts on your face. You should rub this on them. Just to be safe." Kyra handed him a small casing of ointment before walking away.

x x x x x x x x x x x

"Who's hungry?" Everyone turned to see Kyra walking up with two large fish in each hand.

"We were wondering where you had run off to," Leliana said, "I see you brought us dinner."

"It's not much, but hopefully it will do," Kyra replied. About half an hour later, everyone was stuffing their face with the fish Kyra had caught.

"Ooooh…so good," Oghren groaned.

"This is quite definitely the best meal we have had a quite a while," Zevran added.

"Definitely better than Morrigan's food, laced with all sorts of Maker knows what." Alistair purposely said to poke at Morrigan.

"Maybe I _should_ have laced your food with some poison. I am actually quite starting to regret it," Morrigan snapped back at him. Everyone just chuckled. Alistair finished his food and put down his plate on the ground. Kyra watched as he stared off into the fire. He wanted to say something; he had that look on his face.

"I- I, um," He cleared his throat, "I wanted to apologize. For what happened in the tavern the other day. I shouldn't have lost it like that. And the way I acted…was completely unnecessary. I'm sorry, especially to Zevran and Sten. I shouldn't have said those things…You are both here for a reason, and I appreciate that you are here to help us. If I were you…I would have left, after the way I treated you…I'm such an idiot." Alistair looked at his feet, ashamed.

"And he finally admits it," Morrigan said under hear breath.

Zevran placed a hand on Alistair's shoulder, "Apology accepted, my good man. We know what you are going through, and we understand it is not easy."

Alistair looked up and smiled meekly at the party.

"Thank you, Zevran. Thank you…all of you."

x x x x x x x x x x x

After dinner, everyone sat quietly around the fire. Kyra gathered her things and started mixing together herbs and poultices, and placed it to boil for a while on the fire.

"Kyra," She turned around to see Alistair standing behind her, "I just wanted to return this." He held out the ointment she had given him.

"You may keep it," She replied and turned back to her mixture.

"Oh…thank you." He stood behind her awkwardly, "What are you making?"

"Just a potion. It's to ward of any animals." She stood up and pulled out the metal bowl with a stick. She took a cloth and picked it up. Alistair followed her as she walked some ways from the camp, before carefully pouring out the mixture out right around the perimeter. She explained to him that it was a warding potion that would keep out the animals, which included the Werewolves, so that they could not attack during the night. But it would not keep out any humans or darkspawn.

"How does it work?" Alistair asked.

"It just creates a barrier that they cannot pass. I'm not intimate with the exact details about how it works. But I have used it in the past and it very well has saved my life multiple times. It shows you how vulnerable we are at night," She said before stepping over the line into the safety of the barrier. Alistair followed her. He had his doubts if this would work, even if he didn't trust her…he had to try.

"You should get some rest, Warden," Kyra said. Alistair eyed the darkness that surrounded them.

"So should you. We've got a long day tomorrow."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **And so Kyra shows off just some of her mad skills, yo. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This time it was a little longer than the previous two.

I also just wanted to let you guys know that posting may become slow...for a while. I am currently working on chapter six, so that should be up soon. But I'm just saying updates may be sparse for a while. A sudden personal issue has come up, which no one expected. So just be a little patient :) Thanks.


	6. Chapter 6: Fever

**Chapter Six: Fever**

Alistair awoke to the sound of pots and pans being moved around outside. He stretched his aching muscles before poking his head outside the tent. He frowned; Morrigan seemed to be making breakfast.

"Where is Kyra?" He asked her.

"I do not know. She was not her when I awoke." Morrigan sniffed at the substance brewing in the pot. Alistair retreated into his tent and pulled on a shirt and trouser, and laced up his boots. He grabbed his armour, sword and shield to clean, before leaving.

"I'll go see if she isn't down by the river," Alistair announced to Morrigan.

"As you wish." Morrigan merely waved her hand lamely for him to be gone.

He walked down the path toward the river, his feet crunching on the soil. The morning was warm for this time of year, and the sun light filtered ever so gently through the leaves. As he neared, the river grew louder and louder. He rounded a tree and was greeted by the sight of Kyra standing shirtless, waist deep in the river. Thankfully for him, with her back turned towards him. She started to turn around and Alistair dove for the nearest tree. He felt his face flush and his ears burn as he pressed his back against the bark, praying that she hadn't seen him. He wouldn't be hearing the end of it, if she had. He closed his eyes and took a couple breaths, trying to stop the burning in his face.

"You're a sly bastard, you are!" Alistair jumped from the voice. It was Oghren, "Spying on the new girl." Oghren laughed, "Don't blame you. She's pretty and perky too."

"Maker's breath, Oghren! Stop that. Give the woman some privacy!" Alistair pulled Oghren behind the tree so he couldn't watch Kyra. He noticed that Oghren too had his armour and weapon in his hands.

"Nuglicker," Oghren scoffed, "What good is a woman if you can't look at her?" He walked off further down the trail down to the river, leaving Alistair to hide.

"Oghren! What are you doing?" Alistair hissed after him. He received no reply.

"Well, good mor- Oh! I apologize! I shall turn around so you may get dressed." Alistair heard some thrashing about in the water. He peeked out behind the tree and saw Oghren standing with his back to Kyra who was pulling her shirt over her head.

"You are an evil, evil man."

"You mean dwarf," Oghren chuckled to himself.

"Alright, you may turn around," Alistair heard Kyra call out to Oghren.

"I really apologize, ma'am." The guile in his voice clearly distinguishable.

"It is…quite alright," Kyra insisted.

"Come, boy! It is safe now for you to come out!" Oghren called with a sing-song tone. Alistair slowly came out from behind the tree, not noticing that he was still clutching his gear to his chest. Kyra raised an eyebrow.

"Come now, come now. Don't be shy," Oghren urged him on, and then chortled to himself.

"I'm sorry, about him. I, uh, didn't-" Alistair stumbled over his words, his ears burning.

"It's alright, Warden." Kyra gave a small smile, "Boys will be boys." Alistair looked at her closely. She seemed tired. Dark circles were around her eyes, and her eyes seemed glazed. Not clear and sharp like the previous morning. She gathered her things, laughing to herself and shaking her head.

"I will see you back at camp." Kyra greeted them and set off in the direction they had come.

"And you say _I'm _the sly bastard?" Alistair turned to Oghren, who was mighty pleased with himself.

x x x x x x x x x x x

"Alistair! Alistair! You must come see! It is a miracle!" Leliana ran up to him.

"What? What's happened?" He gasped with realization, "Has Morrigan died? Andraste's flaming sword, tell me the wretched woman keeled over and died?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Alistair. I live to die another day," Morrigan smirked as Leliana dragged Alistair across the camp.

"Look! Look at Zevran's wounds!" Leliana pulled him over to Zevran, who proudly showed Alistair his arm, where there were only four faint scars.

"Maker's breath…" Alistair couldn't believe what he was seeing. Yesterday they had been gaping wounds, pouring blood. Now they were healed, as if they had been acquired a lifetime ago.

"The Maker is truly watching over us!" Leliana beamed. Alistair examined the scars more closely.

"How can this be? It's just not possible." He turned to Morrigan, "You didn't have anything to do with this, did you?"

"Me? Touch him? Nevertheless go into his tent in the middle of the night? Preposterous, how dare you even suggest such an idea!"

"Morrigan, my dear, you don't need to be so shy. You can admit it," Zevran leered at her.

"Twas not I!" Morrigan cried.

"Alright, Alright. Andraste's flaming knickers…" Alistair turned back to Zevran.

"Have you seen this?" He asked Kyra who walked by.

"Yes. I agree with Leliana. Someone must truly be watching over you," She smiled softly, packing away her things. Alistair wasn't really a religious man, he was more…rational than that, but how could he deny such a fact in front of him? He had never seen any healing like this before. Not even with the skill Wynne had.

"How does your arm feel?"

"Much better. It still aches, but it should ease with time." Zevran rolled his shoulder and stretched his arm, testing his movement with his daggers.

"Well, then, this is good news. I think we should get going as soon as possible."

x x x x x x x x x x x

Alistair walked closely behind Kyra. He had told her to lead this time. She knew the forest much better than any of them. How many times had they gotten lost yesterday, before Kyra had stepped in to direct them in the right direction? Countless. Bad things always happened when Alistair was the leader of a group. They would get lost, people would die, and the next thing he knew, he was stranded somewhere without any pants…just like the time during his Templar training.

The day was warm, much warmer than any other day. Much warmer than this time of year in fact. Everyone had left their warmer clothes back at camp, where Kyra had shown them how to hide their gear in the bushes, so that they would not need to carry it with them. She was a smart girl, he had to give her that. She had left her, now familiar, cape behind in favour for black leather pants, which had straps around the thighs to hold her daggers and short cut sleeved shirt. She was nimble and quick footed, dodging tree stumps and pitfalls in the ground, and every so often, pointing out traps to him which he would then quickly try to avoid, but not always successfully.

"Friends…please wait a moment." Everyone turned around to see Zevran, bent over, a grimace on his face.

"What's wrong?" Alistair walked up to him.

"It is nothing. Just a moment of fatigue." Zevran shook it off nonchalantly.

"Wait," Kyra eyed him questionably. She walked up to him and placed a hand on his forehead.

"You have a fever. Your skin is on fire!" The sweat shone on his skin, and he shivered ever so slightly.

"Now that you mention it, he does look paler than usual," Chipped in Oghren.

"This is not good…" Kyra trailed off, taking in Zevran's condition.

"What?" demanded Alistair.

"Zevran, do you remember if any of the werewolves bit you?" Kyra asked.

He took a moment to recollect the fight from yesterday. "No. I don't think so. I don't remember."

"You're not saying he has the curse?" Leliana gasped.

"What else could it be? If he wasn't bitten than some of the werewolves blood must have infected him through the gashes on his arms."

"Is it possible?"

"I don't know…but he was healthy before that…a normal infection wouldn't set on so quickly. We have to get him back to Zathrian, just to be safe."

"But that's a day's walk away."

"It doesn't matter. You find a way to get to the Ruins. I'll take Zevran back. If it is the curse, it's his best chance of surviving."

Alistair regarded the ashen Zevran, who shivered even more violently now.

"Alright. Take him. But you have to take someone with you. And don't try to argue with me, what if you get ambushed? I don't want two members of this group dead." Kyra nodded her head in understanding.

"Sten, go with them. Make sure nothing happens," Ordered Alistair. The Qunari did not look happy but did not protest. Kyra draped Zevran's arm around her neck, letting him lean on her.

"We will be back soon. Find a way to the Ruins," Kyra insisted.

"How will you find us?" Alistair couldn't hide the concern in his voice.

"I shall mark the trees with two scratches. Follow them to find us." Morrigan took out a knife and made the first two marks in the tree. Kyra nodded and turned to leave with the Qunari closely behind her.

"All this surface air and greenery is making my nose itch. Let's find this sodding Ruin soon." Sniffed Oghren, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

x x x x x x x x x x x

"How much further do you think?" Leliana asked Morrigan, wiping sweat from her brow. Even she had chosen to don something cooler than her usual Chantry robe.

"According to the map we shouldn't be far," She hesitated.

"What?" Alistair asked.

Morrigan furrowed her brow, "Tis just…I am certain we have passed this tree before." She pointed to a specific tree, twisted and mangled into an awkward shape, "If we are to continue straight then we should be there in no more than an hour."

"But then how is it that we are passing the same tree?"

"I…do not know," Morrigan confessed and continued to study the map.

An idea sprang into his mind, "Wait here." He walked off straight ahead.

"Where are you going?" Leliana called after him.

"What is the fool doing know?" Groaned Morrigan.

Not five minutes later and Alistair returned, coming up the path that they had just came.

"It seems the werewolves were right. The forest doesn't want us to succeed…and the day had started off so well."

"It seems that it does not want us to find whatever lay at the end of that path." Morrigan looked off into the distance, "The forest is changing…moving. We will never find the Ruins like this." Morrigan looked around helplessly. Unexpectedly there was a deafening rustling of cracking and groaning behind them and the group turned around to see the sylvan tree behind them move.

"What manner of beast be thee that comes before this elder tree?" The tree spoke in a deep, booming voice.

"Oh, joy. Tis you again," Morrigan lowered her staff.

"How in the Maker's name did we end up here again? This makes no sense." Alistair looked at the surrounding area. They had encountered a rhyming tree when first travelling through the Brecilian Forest, looking for the Dalish. He had called himself the Grand Oak. But that had been on the _other_ side of the forest.

"Ahhh, yes. I remember thee. The humans and the elf and the Qunari. Greetings to thee once again, thou hast not left the forest, then?" The Grand Oak swayed slightly in a sudden breeze.

"No, we haven't. Could you tell us more about this forest?" Alistair questioned him.

"I can only speak to what a tree may see. It may not help you, but it is enough for me."

"Right...well, where can I find Witherfang's lair?"

"In the centre of the forest, the Were's do dwell. Or so go the tales my fellows tell. But they cannot be followed there, the forest doth protect the Were's."

"Is there any way to get to the centre of the forest?" Alistair urged the Elder tree on.

"Preform the boon as I ask, and I shall reward you for the task. I have but one desire, to solve a matter _very_ dire. As I slept one early morn, a thief did come and steal an acorn."

"An acorn?" Even Leliana seemed sceptical.

"All I have is my being, my seed. Without it, I am alone indeed. I cannot go and seek it out, yet I shall die if left without." The sadness in his voice was filled with loneliness and loss.

"How will you help us if we help you?"

"Hmmm. My wooden skin has some magic, see, and a part of it I can give to thee."

"And how will that help?"

"The Forest would see you as a tree, and so no harm would come to thee." Alistair looked at his group.

"That would definitely help to get us to the Ruins." Leliana agreed.

"Very well. We'll find your acorn for you."

"Go to the east to find this man. I shall await, do what thou can." And with that, the Grand Oak folded its long arms against its body and was still again. Alistair turned around to face his group.

"What the sodding hell just happened? Did that tree just talk?" Oghren started at the tree with wide eyes.

"Yes, Oghren," Morrigan replied.

"Fart me a lullaby! I thought it was just the booze!"

* * *

**Author's Notes: **So a change in the story. Zevran comes down with, what might be, the Werewolf curse. Will he survive? Well...you'll just have to keep reading and see. And my favorite character from DA:O, the Grand Oak! What could possibly be cooler than a rhyming tree?


	7. Chapter 7: Witherfang

**Chapter Seven: Witherfang**

"Wynne! Wynne! We need your help." She turned around to see Kyra running up to her, with Sten carrying Zevran in his arms.

"Maker's breath!" Wynne rushed over, "What happened?"

"We were attacked by werewolves. Zevran was the worst injured. He received four gashes to his arm, but I cleaned them and stitched them up. This morning, while were travelling he started up with a fever." Kyra looked Wynne in the eyes, "I think it may be the Werewolf curse. He doesn't recall being bitten, but what if the Werewolves blood seeped into his wounds during the battle?"

"That is possible…" Wynne worriedly looked at Zevran, "Sten, put him down here." Sten lay Zevran gently down on a free bed.

"Where are the others?" Wynne enquired, "Are any of them hurt?"

"No, not seriously. They are all out still looking for the Ruins."

Wynne examined Zevran's arm, "When were you attacked?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"Kyra, how did these wounds heal so quickly?" Wynne shot her a suspiciously knowing look.

"I do not know. That was how they were this morning," Kyra insisted. Wynne held her gaze for a long time.

"We had to bring Zevran back. If this is the curse, then being here is the best way to help him." Kyra broke the silence.

"The best way to help him would be to find Witherfang. Not only do the lives of the Dalish now hang in the balance, but so does that of your comrade. Go, re-join the others. Leave him to me." Wynne urged. Kyra sensed that Sten was eager to get going.

"Do be careful." The worry in Wynne's eyes hung heavy on Kyra's conscious.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"What kind of man do you think would live, by himself, out here? All alone?" Leliana thought aloud.

"A crazy man, perhaps?" Alistair suggested. They were travelling east as the Grand Oak had said, how far east Alistair didn't know, he was just hoping Kyra and Sten would be able to find them.

"Only a sodding _fool_ would live out here, by himself. A perfect meal for them werewolves." Scoffed Oghren.

"Alistair!"

"Huh?" He turned around. It was Sten and Kyra bolting up the path.

"Thank the Maker! You are alright," Leliana greeted them.

"How is Zevran?" Alistair inquired.

"Wynne is taking care of him."

"Then he is in good hands." He gave a sigh of relief, "How did you get there so quickly?"

"Well, Sten decided that Zevran and I were walking too slow. So he slung each of us over a shoulder and ran all the way there and back. He can run really, _really_ fast," puffed Kyra, trying to catch her breath. Alistair couldn't decide if she was being sarcastic or genuinely truthful. He looked up at Sten who didn't seem out of breath at all.

"No matter, you are both here now. We need to find the hermit, so we can find this blasted acorn," Morrigan hastily said, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Hermit? Acorn?" Kyra looked at them for explanation.

"We came across a Grand Oak tree, who said that if we retrieved his acorn for him, he would give us a branch of his which would let us get past the ever shifting and changing forest and to Witherfang."

"Wait, the tree _spoke_?"

"Twas a _rhyming _tree, yes."

"And this hermit?"

"The Grand Oak said that someone stole the acorn from him and that we could find this man in the east."

"Oh, Maker…" Kyra sighed, "I know where we must go."

"You do?"

"I've met this hermit before. And I warn you, he's completely deranged."

x x x x x x x x x x x x

They walked down a small path that led to a clearing. As they turned the corner they could see a camp set up, and a strange man, dancing away off to one side. Suddenly he jumped around hearing their approaching footsteps.

"Oh dear, oh dear! Not a werewolf and not a spirit, even, what are the woods coming to?"

"We apologize for startling you, ser, but do you perhaps have an acorn?" Kyra asked the man.

"Questions, questions, always questions!" Everyone was taken aback by the man's hostile attitude, "They say it was questions that made me mad; will it do the same for you? Ask a question and you'll get a question, but if you give an answer and you'll receive the same! Oh, I do so love to trade!"

"You…want me to answer a question?" This encounter with the man was slightly different from the last one Kyra had had with him. Last time, she had stumbled upon the camp by accident and when the hermit had found her, started accusing her of trespassing and stealing and threated to kill her. She had threatened to slit his throat if he dare tried to touch her. She had eventually…_persuaded _him to let her go on her way with no fuss.

"Wouldn't I have to ask you a question first?" He replied, his eyes moving rapidly between her and the rest of the group.

"Isn't that a question?"

"Would you know a question if it was asked?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"I don't know. Are _you _mocking _me_?"

"This is ridiculous…"Kyra said under her breath, trying to think of way to get this man to give up the acorn.

"NO! That is not a question! And if it be an answer, it be an answer to a question I've not asked! Have you no sense of the rules?"

"He is toying with us. I say we kill him and take the acorn off his body," Morrigan sneered unpleasantly at the man.

"No, just let me handle it." Kyra urged her.

"Fine, so be it. But be cautious. This is no ordinary mad man. He has magic. I can sense it, powerful magic."

"No fair bringing mages to a guessing game!" the man squealed in displeasure, "Will you play by the rules or not?"

"Then…would you like to ask me a question?"

"I think it is your turn to ask, is it not?"

Kyra thought for a moment, "Do you have the Grand Oak's acorn?"

"Oh, suddenly it all becomes clear. You, here, that talking tree, there…It all makes sense now. As a matter of fact, yes, I do have that tree's acorn. I stole it and it was easy. Silly tree should have locked it up tighter." The man twiddled his fingers and looked around hastily before continuing, "If you want it, then trade me for it, and nothing from that silly tree. No leaves or branches or anything. But…that's all I have to say about that. An answer for an answer. There you go." Kyra looked at Alistair. He just shrugged and motioned for her to press on. She didn't know how she was going to reason with this man…perhaps Morrigan was right, maybe they _should_ just kill the man.

"Um…would you like to ask me another question?" Kyra asked him.

"May I? Oh, yes! I think I might." The man folded his arms and tugged at his long, grey beard, thinking, "Now, what shall be the first? Oh, yes. What is your name?"

"My name is Kyra."

"Ha. So you claim. They sent you, didn't they? But you're too tricky and you're trying to fool me. Well, I'm on to you, just so you now…" He eyes suspiciously, "But it is your turn to ask now. Ask! I dare you!"

"Do you have anything to trade?"

"Let's see…I'll trade you an acorn, a helmet I found, or a book I finished reading years ago, provided you have something interesting in return…"

Kyra turned to face the group, "Empty your pockets." Everyone did as she asked and held what they had in their hands. It was not much, some coin, a bag of gems and a ring. Coin would be useless to a man who lived out in the forest, and what would he do with gems? Kyra picked up the ring. It was heavy and cool to the touch.

"I'll trade you this ring for the acorn." Kyra held out the ring. He took it from her and rolled it around in his fingers, examining it.

"Oh, yes, yes…" He giggled happily to himself. The hermit slipped the ring onto his finger, admiring his hand for a moment. He ran over to the tree stump, dug around, before pulling something out.

"There," He handed her the acorn, "now it is done. What else have you got on your agenda, hmm?"

"We should go." Alistair answered.

"Oh, I see. You're going to report to _them_ now, are you? Fine. Goodbye!"

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Right, so let see if this works." Alistair took a deep breath before walking down the path, hoping that it would not lead him back to where he had started. He walked a few steps, and then another few steps more before he rounded a bend and couldn't see the group anymore.

"It works!" He called to them, running back up the path.

"Thank the Maker!" They all followed him.

"I wish I had a poet tree, to speak all the time like this to me. We could converse and chat and have much fun, every day until there was no more sun." Kyra giggled at her mastery of poetry.

"Tis it necessary to do that?" Morrigan glared at her.

"Oh, come now! Do you honestly tell me that seeing a _talking_, _rhyming tree _did not amuse you?" She asked Morrigan.

"Amusing is when Alistair walks into the path of my Winter's Grasp. A rhyming tree is far from that."

"Oh? You made a little rhyme right now," Kyra laughed.

"For the _last_ time, Morrigan, you _cast_ them on me! I _do not_ just walk into your spells. You purposely cast them on me!"

"You are a dim-witted fool, Alistair. You are capable of limitless idiocy."

Alistair grumbled under his breath. Morrigan must have heard, for in the blink of an eye, there was blast of cool air and Alistair was an icy statue. Kyra inhaled sharply. She hadn't been expecting that. She had seen the damage it could cause to enemy's, freezing them completely and then Alistair would give them a mighty bash with his shield, sending them crumbling to the ground in a thousand pieces.

"Morrigan, you are cruel." But Leliana could not stop the laughter escaping.

"Ah, friend, do not look so worried. It will wear off soon." Morrigan said when she saw the look of helplessness Kyra had on her face, "I wouldn't kill the last remaining Grey Warden." Kyra looked back at Alistair who was frozen in his last movements. She was too scared to look at him for too long in the fear of seeing him shatter into pieces. But with that thought, there was a faint cracking noise as the ice started to thaw from around his body. Suddenly it all fell away, leaving Alistair alive, falling to his knees, clutching his chest and gasping for breath.

"That…woman…" Alistair spoke in between breaths, "is…try…ing…to…kill me…"

"Tis not true, Alistair," Morrigan pouted, "I….was aiming for those Werewolves." Morrigan pointed off into the distance. There were indeed three Werewolves waiting for them and behind were the outlines of what seemed to be the Ruins. Kyra helped Alistair to his feet and they marched forward.

"We are invaded! Intruders have deceived their way into the forest's heart! Fall back to the ruins. Protect the Lady!" The werewolves retreated.

"I think this is it…" Alistair took in his surroundings, "Werewolf City. Kind of…flea heaven isn't it?

x x x x x x x x x x x

"Zathrian?"

They walked out into the main hall of the Ruins, to see Zathrian standing in the middle of the room.

"Ah…and here you are already." He stood up to face them.

"What are you doing here?" Alistair asked him.

"You have carved a safe path through the forest," He explained, "Safe enough for me to follow, anyhow." Morrigan burst into a fit of laughter.

"He wishes to see if we did his work for him. Is that not why you are here now…Sorcerer?" Zathrian's eyes narrowed at the last remark. Kyra did not understand why Morrigan had called him that. Zathrian was just a healer…he was surely not capable of the powerful magic the Lady of the Forest had spoken of.

"Do _not_ call me that, witch," Zathrian warned Morrigan, "I am the Keeper of this clan and I have done what I must. Did you acquire the heart?" He turned to Kyra.

"No, we haven't-"

"Then_ why_ are you leaving the Ruin?"

"Wait…you knew about the Ruin?" Kyra asked him, "If you knew then why didn't you tell us?"

"There was no need," he stated simply, "I knew you would find it, and I did not care to give you a history lesson on things that have no bearing on your purpose here, Kyra."

"But-" She was cut off before she could continue.

"But it seems the spirit has convinced you to act on her behalf," Zathrian folded his arms, "Might I enquire what she wants?"

"She will not summon Witherfang unless you break the curse…" Kyra replied quietly. Alistair had noticed a very sudden change in her demeanor. She seemed withdrawn and apprehensive.

Zathrian thought on this information for a moment before asking, "You do understand that she actually _is_ Witherfang?"

"We guessed as much," Alistair replied.

"She is the powerful spirit of this ancient forest that I summoned long ago and bound in the body of the wolf," Alistair watched the shock spread over Kyra's face, "Her nature is that of the forest itself. Beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast. She is the Lady and Witherfang both, two sides of a single being. The curse came first from her. Those she afflicted with it mirrored her own nature, becoming savage beast as well as human."

"You did this, Zathrian?" Kyra stepped forward to him, the look in her eyes begging him to say that he was lying, "The curse came from you?" Zathrian looked away from her as she continued, "This is your fault?"

"They attacked my clan and they were same savages then that they have ever been. They deserved to be wiped out and _not_ defended," Zathrian spoke harshly, "Come, I will accompany you back to the Ruin. Let us go and speak to the spirit and I will force her into Witherfang's form. He may then be slain and the heart taken."

"But, Zathrian, the werewolves have reclaimed the control of their minds. They are no longer the mindless beasts you once knew." Kyra spoke with him. She no longer spoke as if there were any one else around apart from herself and Zathrian. She spoke with an enduring care in her voice, pleading him to understand. Alistair couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand why. Something just didn't make sense to him…something didn't seem right.

"Even so, they are still the worthless creatures their ancestors were. They deserve nothing more than the misery they possess." Zathrian narrowed his eyes at Kyra, speaking very authoritatively, "This is not your battle, Kyra. Let us just take the heart and be done with it."

"Will you at least consider talking to them?" Kyra pleaded once more.

"Why? You claim they have reclaimed their minds, but they are still savage beasts. Their nature is unchanged. All they will want is revenge…or a release that I will not give them. No, let us take the heart and end it."

"Zathrian! What is going on?" Kyra cried, she looked like a little girl, tugging at her father's pants for attention, "You are a reasonable man, and rational. Why will you not just talk to them? Why does your hatred run so deep?"

Zathrian pulled away from her, brushing her off, "You were not there! You did not see what…what they did to my son. To my daughter. And so many others! You are not Dalish," Kyra recoiled at the quip, it was the first time Alistair had ever seen fear on the woman's face, raw fear and uncertainty, "How can you know how we had to struggle to be safe? How could I have let their crimes go unanswered?"

"But it is your people suffering now, as well as their companion. Not just them." Kyra replied, trying to find the right words.

"I have sworn to protect my people, Kyra, and I shall. I will not lift a finger to help the descendants of savages who deserved the curse they received!"

"So your answer is to let them suffer forever?" Alistair noticed the familiar tinge of hostility and annoyance in her voice.

"Tell me," Zathrian took a step closer to Kyra, "if you held your own daughter's lifeless body in your arms, would you not also have sworn an eternity of pain on those who did such to her?"

"I might have, but who is being punished _now_, Zathrian?"

Alistair could help but smile at her quick and witty thinking. Zathrian stood silent for a few moments, not saying anything, just staring Kyra down. He then let out a heavy sigh.

"Very well. You wish me to go and talk?"

Kyra nodded her head.

"I will do so. But what if it's only more revenge they wish? Will you safeguard me from harm?"

"Yes, I will, Zathrian."

"I still fail to see the purpose behind this…but very well. It has been many centuries now. Let us see what this spirit has to say." Kyra gave a small smile, perhaps to reassure Zathrian that all would be well. He did not return the gesture.

x x x x x x x x x x x

They entered the room where the Lady of the Forest was awaiting their return. The werewolves howled and growled loudly at the sight of Zathrian, but he seemed indifferent to the hostility towards him.

"So here you are, spirit."

Swiftrunner leapt forward, growling, towering over Zathrian, "She is the Lady of the Forest! You will address her properly!"

"You've taken a name, spirit?" Zathrian asked, amused, as Swiftrunner returned to his place next to the Lady, "And you've given names to your _pets_? These…beasts who follow you?"

"It was they who gave me a name, Zathrian, and the names they take are their own. They follow me because I help them to find who they are."

"Who they are does not change whom their ancestors were," scoffed Zathrian, "Wild savages! Worthless dogs! Their twisted shapes only mirror their monstrous hearts!"

"He will not help us, Lady. It is as I warned you! He is not here to talk!" Swiftrunner growled furiously.

"No, I _am_ here to talk, though I see little point in it," He shot a quick look at Kyra, "We all know where this will lead. Your nature compels it, as does mine."

The Lady paced up to Zathrian, speaking softly, "It does not have to be that way. There is room in your heart for compassion, Zathrian. Surely your retribution is spent."

He shook his head angrily, "My retribution is eternal, spirit, as is my pain. This is justice, no more."

"Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse? Have you told the mortals how it was created?"

"He said he summoned you and bound you to a wolf." Alistair answered for him.

"And so he did…" Sadness washed over the Lady's face, "Witherfang and I are bound as one being. But such powerful magic could not be accomplished without Zathrian's own blood." The Lady turned her attention back to Zathrian, "Your people believe you have rediscovered the immortality of their ancestors, Zathrian, but that is not true. As long as the curse exists, so do you."

"Zathrian?" Kyra touch his arm softly, "Is this true? Why did you never tell me?"

"No! That is not how it is!" He cried.

"What could keep one going after so many centuries of life?" The Lady continued, "Love, or a bitter hatred that clutches at a heart that should long ago have ceased beating? The curse would not end with Zathrian's death. His life, however, relies on its existence, and I believe his death plays a part in its ending."

"Then we kill him! Then we tear him apart now!" Swiftrunner edged forward, ready to attack.

"For all your powers of speech, you are beasts still!" Zathrian spat back, "What would you gain killing me? Only I know how the ritual ends, and I will never do it!"

"Ha! You see! We must kill them all!" Swiftrunner edged even closer, his muscles visibly tensing.

"See?" Zathrian turned to Alistair and the group, "They turn on you as quickly. Do what you have come here to do, Grey Warden, or get out of my way."

"I will not help you with this, Zathrian." Kyra stepped in between him and the Lady. She stood upright, shoulders back, eye to eye with the man. Zathrian's eyes widened with disbelief, his mouth fell open ever so slightly.

"We're standing for what's right, here. No matter what." Alistair joined Kyra's side. Zathrian glowered at them.

"Then you die with them!" He took hold of his staff, "All of you will suffer as you deserve!" Before Kyra could even comprehend what was going on, there was chaos everywhere. Zathrian had paralyzed the Lady, who was now in Witherfang's form, and all the werewolves, weaving spells with his hands. Alistair and the rest of the group were fighting the Sylvain trees and Lesser Shades that Zathrian had summoned. Kyra stood rooted to the spot, amidst the howling and crashing of metal. Her mind would not command her feet or hands to do what she knew she had to. She had to stop Zathrian, she had to. He was not the man she had always known him to be…he was not a cruel man. He was not a powerful mage either. He was kind and merciful and peaceful, and an evenhanded man. She did not know the Zathrian before her, overcome by grief and vengefulness. She felt the hilt of her daggers now against the palm of her hand. She knew what she had to do. She ran across the room, wielding her blades, slicing through Shades and dodging the swinging arms of the trees. She kept running, throwing her full weight behind each stab, each blow. Kyra closed her eyes and felt the sickening feeling of her daggers plunging into Zathrian's flesh. She felt as if she had stabbed herself in the chest. Quickly she withdrew the blades and readied for another blow, but was hit by a wave a lightening scorching through her body. She collapsed to her knees in agony, every muscle in her body twitching and cramping. She looked up at the man she once knew, his eyes ablaze, raising his staff for another spell. But before he could execute it, he was swiped off his feet by Oghren. Zathrian crashed to the floor. He wasn't able to recover; he was overwhelmed by the Warden and his group and the werewolves bounding over to him.

"No! No more!" Zathrian howled, throwing his hands up, "I…I cannot…defeat you…"

"Finish it! Kill him now!" Swiftrunner pushed past them, ready to do the final blow.

"No, Swiftrunner!" The Lady stopped him, "We will not kill him. If there is no room in our hearts for mercy, how may we expect room in his?"

"I cannot do as you ask, spirit," Zathrian said, struggled to his feet, clutching at his wounds, "I am too old…to know mercy. All I see are the faces of my children, of my people…I cannot do it."

"Hasn't this gone on long enough?" Alistair asked while sheathing is sword.

"Perhaps I have…lived for too long. This hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root…it has consumed my soul. What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?"

"Zathrian…" Kyra stepped forward, but Alistair held out his hand to stop her. He could not help but notice the sadness in her eyes. She reached out for him, but he gave her no response.

"You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life. Yet of all things I desires nothing more than an end," The Lady took a step closer to Zathrian, "I beg you, maker…put an end to me. _We_ beg you…show mercy."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Hope you enjoyed it. I apologize for the recent amount of in-game dialogue I've been using, but for some parts you just can't avoid it.

Also, I would like you, the reader's, opinion on the lenght of the chapter(s). I was going to still include the encouter with Witherfang/The Spirt of the Forest and the whole thing with Zathrian and whatnot, but I was worried that the chapter was getting too long. Was I right? Is the chapter too long? Is it too short? Is it just right? I'd just like to know what you guys think about this. Would really appreciate it!

**UPDATE: **So after receiving a few reviews and reading over the chapter a couple times, I decided to include the encounter with Witherfang and Zathrian. I think it fits together better now. Before, it just seemed incomplete. Also, a little more is revealed of Kyra. More to come in the next chapter as well.

I would also just like to let you guys now that I'll be leaving for home for a while, to write my exams, so updates won't be too commen. I'll keep writing and hopefully be able to post a chapter or two while I'm gone. I just like to say thank you again, to everyone who bothers to read this story, and who send me all the lovely reviews! Thank you so much!


	8. Chapter 8: The Bard's Song

**Author's Notes: **PLEASE NOTE - IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE UPDATED VERSION OF CHAPTER 7 THEN PLEASE GO AND DO SO BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER. IMPORTANT THINGS IN THERE. THANK YOU!

**

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**Chapter Eight: The Bard's Song**

The clan watched as five figures slowly made their way to the camp. As they drew closer, a sixth figure was seen, slumped over another.

Kyra couldn't bring herself to just leave Zathrian to waste away in the secluded Ruin. She could not just forget everything he had done for her. Perhaps she had never known who he was in the first place, hiding such secrets of malevolent hatred, spirits and powerful magic. But she could not turn a blind eye on all the kindness he had shown her. So she had picked up his body, after watching him end the werewolf curse and thus his life as well, and carried it back to his clan.

"No…no!" A few of the hunters ran up to her when they saw Zathrian's lifeless body. They helped her carry him to the make shift infirmary, and placed his body on a bed. They frantically checked for a heartbeat, breathing or any sign of life.

"He's gone…" Kyra stopped them solemnly. They had been expecting to celebrate once Zathrian and the outsiders had returned…not the death of their Keeper.

"We must arrange a burial," Kyra said, turning to one of the elves. He quietly nodded and set off to inform Lanaya or one of the other elders. Kyra knelt down next to the bed and held Zathrian's hand. Alistair watched this and though he felt sympathy, could still not understand the bond between the two.

"Alistair, you have returned," He turned around to see Wynne, with a healthier looking Zevran, "I take it that Witherfang has been slain and the curse ended?"

"More than that…" Alistair stood aside.

"Oh my…" Wynne raised a hand to her mouth, "Is he-?"

"Yes…Zathrian had created the cruse after his clan had been attacked and his family killed. Vengeance drove him to eternally curse all those who had done them harm. The curse was keeping him alive for centuries, so when he ended it…his life did as well," Alistair explained to them. He looked back at Kyra who was now speaking with Lanaya.

Kyra had been silent all the way back to camp, refusing help from any of them and urging them to not stop walking until they had reached the Dalish camp again. She had been adamant. Alistair watched as the two women now spoke, holding one another's hands, comforting each other. From where he was standing, you could have said they were sisters.

x x x x x x x x x x

Alistair and the others watched from a distance as Zathrian's body was laid in the ground, the ceremony torch lit. They said prayers in elven and even Kyra said them too. She looked much like one of them. His body was then covered, and they watched as the elves planted a tree sapling in the same spot. Alistair thought it a beautiful notion – life and beauty growing from death. Then the cool night was filled by the sound of singing voices, united in perfect harmony.

"_Hahren na melana sahlin,_

_Emma ir abelas._

_Souver'inan isala hamin,_

_Vhenan him dor'felas._

_In uthenera na revas._

_Vir sulahn'nehn,_

_Vir dirthera,_

_Vir samahl la numin,_

_Vir lath sa'vunin."_

Alistair instantly recognized the song as the one Leliana had sung for them many, many camp nights ago. As if she had read his mind, she said, "It means, 'Elder, your time has come. Now I am filled with sorrow. Weary eyes need resting. Heart has become grey and slow. In waking sleep is freedom. We sing, rejoice. We tell the tales. We laugh and cry. We love one more day."

x x x x x x x x x x

Everyone sat huddled around the camp fire, outsiders and elves alike. They had had a great feast and a speech was made by the clan's new Keeper, Lanaya, in celebration of Zathrian's life. The Elders had taken turns telling tales of Zathrian's life or leading everyone in a song. Now it was Leliana and Kyra's turn to lead a sing-a-long. They played lutes and sang together a song Alistair had heard many times before, The Bard's Song.

"_Now you all know,_

_The bards and their songs._

_When hours have gone by,_

_I'll close my eyes._

_In a world far away,_

_We may meet again._

_But now hear my song,_

_About the dawn of the night._

_Let's sing the bard's song._

_Tomorrow will take us away,_

_Far from home._

_No one will ever know our names,_

_But the bards' song will remain._

_Tomorrow will take it away,_

_The fear of today._

_It will be gone,_

_Due to our magic songs._

_There's only one song,_

_Left in my mind._

_Tales of a brave man,_

_Who lived far from here._

_Now the bard's songs are over,_

_And it's time to leave._

_No one should ask you for the name of the one,_

_Who tells the story._

_Tomorrow will take us away,_

_Far from home._

_No one will ever know our names,_

_But the bards' songs will remain._

_Tomorrow all will be known,_

_And you're not alone._

_So don't be afraid,_

_In the dark and cold._

'_Cause the bards' songs will remain,_

_They all will remain._

_In my thoughts and in my dreams,_

_They're always in my mind._

_These songs of hobbits, dwarfs and man and elves, _

_Come close your eyes._

_You can see them too…"_

Everyone clapped and applauded.

"What shall we sing next?" Leliana asked Kyra merrily.

"Oh, Kyra, please sing that lovely song of yours!" A young elf chimed.

"Which one, Talya? Aren't all of my songs lovely?" Kyra played.

"You know which one!" The girl besought, "The one you always sing us!"

"Yes, Kyra!"

"Oh, please, Kyra! Please!" More elves pleaded. They had now roused Alistair's curiosity.

"Alright, now I _have_ to hear this song." Kyra laughed and looked at her feet. It was another expression he hadn't expected ever to see on Kyra's face – embarrassment. Now everyone was prodding her to perform the song, even Zevran and Oghren.

"Alright, alright," Kyra raised her hands in defeat, "You win. I will play the song." She picked up the lute and started tuning it, plucking each string and adjusting. Suddenly, the girl who had suggested Kyra play the song ran up to her, holding a flute triumphantly in her hand.

"I've been practicing," She beamed. Kyra smiled warmly and told her she could join. The little girl sat down next to Kyra as she counted them in. It was a ghostly tune, mysterious, but strangely soothing at the same time.

"_An old man by a seashore,_

_At the end of day,_

_Gazes the horizon,_

_With sea winds in his face._

_Tempest tossed island,_

_Seasons all the same._

_Anchorage unpainted,_

_And a ship without a name._

_Sea without a shore for the banished one unheard,_

_He lightens the beacon light,_

_At the end of world._

_Showing the way,_

_Lighting hope in their hearts._

_The ones on their travels,_

_Homeward from afar._

_This is for long forgotten,_

_Light at the end of the world._

_Horizon crying,_

_The tears he left behind long ago._

_The albatross is flying,_

_Making him daydream,_

_The time before he became,_

_One of the world's unseen._

_Princess in the tower,_

_Children in the fields._

_Life gave him it all:_

_An island of the universe._

_Now his love's a memory,_

_A ghost in the fog._

_He sets the sails one last time,_

_Saying farewell to the world._

_Anchor to the water,_

_Seabed far below._

_Grass still in his feet,_

_And a smile beneath his brow._

_This is for long forgotten,_

_Light at the end of the world._

_Horizon crying, _

_The tears he left behind long ago,_

_So long ago…_

_This is for long forgotten,_

_Light at the end of the world._

_Horizon crying,_

_The tears he left behind so long ago,_

_So long ago…"_

Alistair couldn't help but wonder, as he watched Kyra pick the lute, playing the last few notes, where this song came from, for he had never heard of it, and what it meant to her.

x x x x x x x x x x

The next morning was a sombre one. The clan was still grieving the loss of Zathrian, and so was Kyra it seemed. She had kept her distance from Alistair and the rest, only speaking to Zevran to see how he was recovering.

They would be leaving for Redcliffe today, for Lanaya had promised the Grey Wardens allies in the upcoming battle against the Darkspawn, for helping to save her clan. Leliana, Zevran and even Morrigan and Sten had approach Alistair at some point at the prospect of asking Kyra to join them in their cause. He _had_ justly given some thought to the idea, but he still felt somewhat…bitter about the fact that she was a criminal and had tried to mug him in Denerim. On the other hand, he _was_ travelling with a former Orlesian bard, and everyone knows what they say about Orlesian bards, an apostate, and a murderer, a former member of the Crows – who had tried to kill him and his fellow Warden – and a drunk. By the Maker, even he was now considered a criminal and a traitor in most parts of Ferelden thanks to Loghain. Wynne was apparently the only decent one among them. Alistair sat down next to the cooking fire and soaked up its warmth, discerning further on Kyra joining them. There was no point in trying to deny that the girl had skill, and Duncan had always told him that the Grey Wardens never turn down help, no matter the source. It was with that attitude that he sought out new recruits who ever they were, cut-purses, knights and even nobility. It was a unanimous decision amongst the rest of the group to ask Kyra to join them. Alistair sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't like being leader; too many responsibilities and too many consequences if he made the wrong decision. He could hardly look after himself, how could he be expected to look after everyone else too? But now he was just being pitiful and selfish. He was a Grey Warden. It was his duty to protect Ferelden and its people, and he was going to need help. No matter the source.

"You want me to join you?" Kyra looked sceptically at the group of people she had come to know – the suspicious and judgemental, yet oddly amusing and charming Grey Warden, the Orlesian Chantry sister and former bard, the boisterous and drunken dwarf, the snippy and entertaining mage, the mysterious Qunari, the flirtatious elf and the loving grandmother of the group. Honestly, she could not think of a better collection of people to travel with…even if they were intending the stop the Blight pretty much singlehandedly, but she had never been one to back away from adventure.

"This is truly what you wish?" Every nodded their heads, "Very well, then. I shall accompany you." Leliana couldn't stop herself from throwing her arms around Kyra in joy.

"Thank you," Alistair responded, "You help will not be unappreciated."

x x x x x x x x x x

They were half way to Redcliffe, another day and a half and they would arrive. They were taking their time, not that the Blight would wait for them, but they needed it. For the past year or so, they had been travelling and fighting unceasingly on the urgent quest to retrieve the allies the Grey Wardens were promised. The toll could now be seen. They all had aches and pains, scattered across their bodies, from combat and wounds that had never had time to heal completely. They were restless and weary from little sleep and the lines of stress and worry were patterned on their faces. Even Sten, with his piercing eyes and resilient build, was showing signs of exhaustion and fatigue. Now that it was done, Alistair could feel a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders. Now all he had to worry about was the Landsmeet and killing that pesky Archdemon. No pressure at all, it was not as if the nation's fate lay in his hands.

It was a cool night and the air was crisp. Another winter was coming and Alistair could hardly believe that so much time had already gone by. They had set up camp and Alistair had introduced Kyra to Boddhan Feddic and Sandal, their own personal merchant and rune enchanter.

Alistair looked across the camp fire to the sound of laughter. It was Zevran and Kyra. He had noticed that ever since Kyra had, in effect, saved his life, they had been spending quite a lot of time together. No doubt, Zevran felt indebted to give her a couple good nights in his tent. Wait, was that jealously he felt? He looked down at his curled fists. Why should he be jealous that they were spending time together? He didn't care…did he? He huffed and started pulling blades of grass out of the ground. Perhaps it would help to keep the thoughts of Zevran and Kyra doing…_things_ together, from snaking into his mind.

"Warden," Alistair was startled by the sound of Kyra's voice. He felt himself blush and hoped she hadn't seen.

"Yes?"

"I want to apologize again for that night in Denerim. I truly hadn't known that you were a Grey Warden. I thought you were just another spoilt, ungrateful, noble knight wasting his coin on alcohol. I…" She studied her feet, "…have no tolerance for alcohol and drunkenness…"

"Then why have you not had a go at Oghren yet?" The question came out harsher than Alistair had intended and could see that it stung her.

"To be honest, he is a type of drunk I have never seen before. Instead of being angry and violent, he is comical and entertaining. More than that, he is your companion and friend, and I do not wish to be even more in your bad spirits." She sat down next to him. He could see she was being sincere and he knew that he had also been wrong to judge her so quickly.

"I just wanted to apologize again, for if I am to travel with you, animosity between us would not be good. Bitterness between comrades only leads to grave mistakes in battle…" Alistair knew this only far too well.

"Apology accepted and I too want to apologize, Kyra, for judging and accusing you as I did. It was not fair of me."

"I understand. It would not be easy to trust anyone after what I did to you…and I don't expect you to."

"If we're going to be travelling with each other, then I'm going to _have_ to, regardless of what happened. I'll be watching your back and you'll be watching mine. Actually," Alistair felt around his pocket, "I wanted to give you something…" He pulled out a medallion and handed it to Kyra. She gazed at it and then at him quizzically.

"It's my fellow Warden's pendant. I took it when she died so that it wouldn't fall into Darkspawn hands. I couldn't bear the thought of that…" The quizzical look was still upon her face, "I want to make you an honorary Grey Warden. To say thank you for helping us."

"What! I don't deserve this…not at all. I didn't even do much…" Kyra extended the pendant back towards him.

"Nonsense. If it wasn't for you, we would probably _still_ be lost in that forest and Zevran would be a Werewolf or worse…dead. Do not underestimate the contribution you have made." Kyra looked down at the gift in her hand. 'An honorary Grey Warden,' he had said. She did not feel an ounce worthy of it. She turned the necklace over in her hands. It was made of silver with a pendant about the size of a sovereign hanging from it. It had a clear front, where a viscous, blackish liquid moved around inside. Etched on the back was a Griffon, the Warden's insignia.

"It's a pendant that each new Grey Warden recruit receives after successfully completing the Joining ritual. It's filled with Darkspawn blood. It's to remind us of all those who hadn't made it that far, and to remind us of the sacrifices we made.'' Alistair explained to her. She was dumbstruck and did not know what to do.

"Thank you. Thank you so much…I will always cherish this and I will protect it with my life. That I swear." Kyra clutched the gift to her chest, gazing Alistair in the eyes, reinforcing her promise.

"May I ask you something?" Alistair enquired while Kyra fastened the necklace around her neck.

"Certainly."

"There is more to your relationship with the Dalish than you let on. You are accepted by them as if you weren't an outsider. I have never seen something like it before. And the relationship you had with Zathrian…that was much more than well-acquainted…well, acquaintances. Why is that?"

Kyra sighed, "That is a very long story." That was not going to deter him.

"Well, we have the whole night and we are on first shift for watch. I'm all ears." Kyra watched him with bemusement.

"You really want to know?" She questioned.

"I really do."

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**Author's Notes: **Well, finally I get to update! Only have one exams left so I have a lot of free time. Working on Chapter 10 at the moment, should be done soon. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Took me long enough to post! It's another short one, I know. Next chapter is a little longer.

So the title of this chapter and the first song (which Leliana and Kyra sang) is actually a song by the band, Blind Guardian. I found it pretty fitting. Here's a link to the song if you've never heard it before: .com/watch?v=u_tORtmKIjE

The second song (which Kyra sings) is the song, "The Islander" by Nightwish. (Another link for if you haven't heard the song before: .com/watch?v=5juc6fmgylw&ob=av2e) For those of you who think that these songs sound Celtic or Irish in a way, well then you guessed right. Since we have the equivalent to English, French and Italian in the game, I thought, "Hey, why not put some Irish people in there too? :D" Talk about United Nations.


	9. Chapter 9: Turbulent Pasts

**Chapter Nine: Turbulent Pasts**

Kyra hadn't been born in Ferelden and she suspected nowhere near it either. She remembered little about her first few years of life, apart from the north-westerly, salty wind from living next to the ocean and that one day, her father had piled all their belonging onto a ship and she, her mother and her father set off on a very, very long journey. After weeks, months or maybe even years – Kyra had no idea how long they had weathered the seas – of sailing, they made land. She didn't know the name of her homeland or where it possibly could be. When in Denerim, Kyra would always visit 'The Wonders of Thedas.' They had a large map of Thedas that stretched the length of the wall. She, and nor did her mother or father look any different from the people here in Ferelden, or Orlais or anywhere else she had been, so she could not be from Par Vollen – the home of the Qunaris – or maybe she was from one of the other islands, such as Seheron, Brandel's Reach or Alamar. Perhaps she was from the Free Marches, and her father had decided life would have been better in Ferelden. She didn't know. The only connection she had to her birthplace was a few bits of folklore and songs, and the song her mother had always sang to her, 'The Islander.'

Kyra's mother had always said that they had landed in Highever, when she asked about their trip across the seas. They had stayed there for a while, getting a feel of this new country they had come to. Kyra remembered her first impressions of Ferelden, that it was cold and smelled of wet dog. The ocean smelled different too, like raw fish and rotting seaweed and the wind blew her hair in the opposite direction from the wind back home. She didn't like it. She remembered pulling on her father's coat and asking why they had come here. He had never given her a response.

A month or so had passed, and they set off to the east, to a place Kyra would learn later on, was Denerim. There they stayed for a time too, her father working as a merchant's assistant and her mother working in the kitchen of the tavern. Kyra had spent the days with her mother, playing under the wooden table. It hadn't always smelt too good, but at least it was warm. At night, they all piled in one room that the tavern keeper had rented out to them.

Another few months passed and they set off once again, this time to the south. Kyra had grown up learning to never question her parents and their decisions, especially not her father's. So when he dragged her mother and her for weeks on end, from city to town, village to hamlet, she had never once opened her mouth to complain.

Eventually, they came to a city of ruins. Vast stone structures, that once would have been magnificent in their glory years, but were all now but rubble and stone arches. There was a great stone bridge, which crossed a massive expanse, where the fields stretched out far below. Kyra had remembered that this place had been swarming with soldiers. Strong, weathered men with gruff voices and shining armour. They had let her family pass through, unhindered, and they travelled forth. She had learned many years later that that had been Ostagar, and those soldiers had been none other than the Grey Wardens.

Then, out of the blue, her father decided to settle down in a small blip of a town a few miles north of Ostagar. If Kyra ran up the northern hills, to the very highest top, she could see the vague silhouette of the Tower of Ishal and the rest of the ruins of Ostagar. That was the only thing Kyra had liked about it. Apart from that it was a rat infested, backwater town. It rested on the edge of the swamps and marshes, the Korcari Wilds. It was frigid in the winter and humid in the summer. Why her father had decided to stop there, she had never known. But they stayed, for many years. Kyra grew and started attending classes at the Chantry, while her mother worked as a cook in the local tavern and her father worked as a merchant. Her father had always been good with numbers, and was especially charismatic, so it wasn't too long before he started a shop of his own. Life had been good, the coin kept flowing in, but yet they still stayed in the dismal town. Kyra wanted to leave, for this wasn't her home, and as she grew older, the more this feeling grew too.

By the time she was seven, Kyra had been already much taller than any of the other girls and many of the boys too. The other children had called her a 'giant' and she was teased incessantly about her mismatched eyes. She had few friends and would spend her time watching the boys sword fight, from her house's top window, in the field next to their home. She had watched them for hours on end, taking in each and every move they made. It wasn't as if they were any good, but it was enough for her to practice when no one was watching. Once her mother had caught her, lunging through the house with the broom in her hand as a sword. She had smacked her so quick across the back of the head; she hadn't had time to react. "Girls don't sword fight," her mother had warned her sternly, "They cook, clean and find good husbands. That's all." She had loved her mother with all her heart, but Kyra could never accept the life she had taken of just cooking and cleaning and making sure to fulfil her husband's ever whim. It was just too boring.

Then, one day, everything changed. She had come back from her classes at the Chantry, and as she strode closer to the house, she could hear the sound of her mother's voice, shrill and high pitched. Her mother wasn't an angry person, so to hear her shouting as such was very strange. Kyra had walked in on her parent's in the middle of a fight. Her mother's eyes were red and sore while her father looked exasperated. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, for recently her father's business had taken off, and he was being summoned to every corner of the Ferelden by every which noble. Sometimes for months, he would be gone, securing business and trading deals. They were just fighting over the fact that daddy was never home. She knew that she missed her father when he was gone, so her mother must have missed him too. Her father had stormed out of the room in a flurry, leaving her mother standing in the middle of the room, with papers in her hands. She had burst into tears and ran up the stairs. Kyra had carefully picked up the pieces of paper.

"He was having an affair, wasn't he?" Alistair asked, resting his chin on his hand.

"He sure was. He had a mistress in Denerim, and my mother had found their letters of correspondence. I was too young to understand at first, but I eventually figured it out. Turns out he didn't have just one mistress…but quite a few. My father obviously denied it, but who could deny the proof in those letters?" Kyra sighed and looked off into the distance, "My mother was never the same after that. She became quite and sullen. She hardly spoke and when she did the sarcasm and bitterness dripped in her voice. My mother swore that she would never let herself forget. She rarely left the house either, expect to go work. Not that we needed it. My father was bringing more than enough coin home."

"What happened then?"

"Then…" Kyra hesitated for a moment, "then, one day I had come back from picking berries on the edge of the forest. I remember walking into the house and…something just wasn't right. It was too quiet and too calm. My mother wasn't in her usual rocking chair, mumbling and cursing to herself in front of a crackling fire. I called out, and no one answered. So I walked up to my parent's room, in the thought that perhaps my mother was sleeping. When I opened the door…" Kyra hesitated again, this time for longer. Alistair could she see she was struggling to find her words. She cleared her throat before continuing, "I opened the door and my mother was dead. She had hung herself from the rafters."

"Maker's breath…" Alistair's eyes widened, "I'm so sorry…"

"You weren't the one who slipped the noose around her neck," Kyra waved him off, "So don't be sorry…Anyway, I didn't know what to do, so I ran down to where my father worked. He came back with me. He took her body down and cried the whole night. I had never seen my father cry. I had never thought he was _capable_ of it. He had braved massive waves and violent storms, was strong and courageous, and yet here was the same man, with tears streaming down his face, weeping over his wife's body…" Kyra shrugged, "Things were never the same. We buried my mother high up on one of the hills. My father stopped travelling and worked fulltime at the shop. At night, he'd come home and sit in front of the fire. Just stare at it. Soon afterwards, he started drinking. At first just a glass, but then two, and then three...Soon it was a few bottles every night. He wasn't able to work anymore, being drunk and hung over all the time. So the coin soon ran out too. It went on for years and it just got worse. He had broken his own heart and I had to watch as he tried to reassemble it. There were countless nights where he would stumble in home, with a girl on each arm, all as drunk as the next."

"So I'm guessing that's where your intolerance from alcohol came?"

"That's right. My father gave no regard to what he did or said when he was drunk. He would curse and swear, mumble to himself all the time. One night, I had done something, what I still do not know, and he had lost his top. He jumped up from the table, yelling and threatening to kill me. I was scared witless, so naturally I tried to run. Back then my hair was long, so my father grabbed me by the hair and threw me to the ground. He called me all sorts of things, bitch being the kindest. And when I told him to stop, he smacked me across the face. Mind you, I've been stabbed and shot at by arrows and had gaping wounds, but nothing has ever compared to that. It felt as if he had smacked my head right off my shoulders. There was a blistering, white, hot pain that shot through my face, and everything was fuzzy. I remember the taste of blood in my mouth. I also remember my father towering over me, seething like a mad man. It was the first time he had ever hit me. It was the last time too."

"Did you-" Alistair was almost too afraid to ask what happened next.

"Kill him? If that was what you were going to ask, no, I simply waited until he had fallen asleep, packed my things and left."

"Left? Where did you go?"

"I thought of going to Ostagar, but it was too obvious, my father would find me there. Also, the soldiers there would have brought me back. So I went to the only other place I could, into the Wilds. No one would come looking for me there. Everyone was far too superstitious to do that. He would simply assume that I was dead. So I ran as far as I could, until I collapsed from pure exhaustion."

Alistair could hardly believe it, "How could you have possibly survived in the Wilds? How old were you?"

"By then I was about ten years old. But this story is getting far too long and much off the topic of your question. So to make a long story short, while in the Wilds, I was rescued by two soldiers, from a rogue band of darkspawn. I had accidently stumbled upon the darkspawn camp and they had attacked me. I had been injured but managed to run away. But they chased me. I had tripped and fallen, and the darkspawn had caught up to me. The next moment, I saw the flashing of blades and one by one, the darkspawn fell to the ground, their blackish blood spilling everywhere. I looked up to see two men, two soldiers, with a griffon on their breast plate and shields."

"Grey Wardens…"

"At that point in time, I hadn't known, I was just happy to be alive. One of the men bandaged my wounds. He was a tall man, with wide shoulders and a strong build. He had shaggy black hair and warm, rich chestnut eyes. He asked me about my family and I told them that we had been attacked by thrall of darkspawn and that they were dead. So, he took me with him, took me back to Ostagar with him and his partner…He was a kind man," Kyra smiled at the memories, "He let me sit on his shoulders when we travelled and he would tell me great stories about his adventures. At Ostagar, I was fed and slept well for the first night in months. The next morning, I overheard the man who saved me and, who I assumed to be his commanding officer arguing…about me. He was to take me to Denerim, to the orphanage there. I was a liability. So that very same day we set off for Denerim. We walked for many days, and then suddenly turned off the Imperial Highway and into a forest. When I asked him where we were going, he replied by saying a place where I would be safe, a place where I would be looked after. We walked for a few more days, before we came across a camp. We were greeted by an elf. I had never seen an elf before. I remember looking up at this man who had saved my life, wondering why he was going to leave me here with all these strange, pointy eared people. I begged him not to leave me there, but he told me that I would be safe there. I still remember watching him go. I had never even had the chance to say thank you…"

"So the elves he left you with, was Zathrian's clan I presume?"

"Yes, it was. Zathrian took me in as if I was his own child. But I suppose to him, I was like the daughter he lost so very long ago...They taught me how to use a bow and arrow, how to spot traps, how to hunt, how to blend in with the forest and move without a sound. It was they who taught me herbalism and how to heal wounds. I grew up with Lanaya, who was like a sister to me. I grew up amongst them, learned their culture, their language, their stories. I was considered one of them…" Kyra turned to face Alistair, "Now you know, Warden. Zathrian was like a father to me, and yet I learned that he had a past that I never knew of...that he hid from all of us. But perhaps, I _am_ like him. I hid my past from you too."

"I don't blame you for doing so, but thank you for telling me. I would have never guessed…" Kyra looked back at the fire, and laughed.

"I cannot believe that I actually told you that…" Kyra saw Alistair cock his head to one side, "You're the first person I have ever told." She saw him smile.

"So does that mean you trust me?"

"I guess it does." Kyra gave him a small smile, but she still felt uncomfortable about how such a story, which she had buried away for years, had surfaced and been told so easily to a man she hardly knew. The words had spilled out of her mouth, as if the flood gates had been opened. She was always so careful, always so sure to keep her distance. Why was it that she couldn't do it with him?

"What happened to your father?"

"I don't know. If he didn't drink himself to death many years ago, he is most surely dead now. Once I heard the news of what had happened at Ostagar, I had made my way there. I honestly couldn't believe it. But then I saw the burning tower and the battle field..." Kyra frowned as the image flashed through her mind, "The village I had lived in was burnt to the ground. If my father hadn't fled, then he burnt along with it."

"You've been to Ostagar since the battle?"

Kyra nodded quietly, the anxious look on Alistair's face was overwhelming.

"Ever since we left Ostagar and the Wilds, all I've wanted to do is return to it. I know what will be waiting will not be pleasant to see…but it needs to be done. Someone has to return to retrieve my br-" Alistair bit his tongue, "_the king's_ armoury and weapons. Someone has to bury his body…" Kyra watched Alistair look at the fire, his eyes shining with tears. He looked heartbroken and miserable.

"I understand…"

They sat together in front of the fire, with the sound of the night animals around them.

"Do you ever regret leaving?" Alistair asked. Kyra sensed that the question had more meaning behind it than what first appeared.

"You mean leaving my father?"

"Yes. Perhaps if you had stayed, you could have saved him when your home was attacked or convince him to give up the alcohol...he was still your father after all."

"Perhaps, or perhaps I would have died too." Kyra shrugged, "If there's one thing I've learned in my few, meagre years of life it is this: In the end, Warden, we only regret the chances we didn't take, the relationships we were afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make. And when we dwell too much in the past, we miss everything that's happening now to us in the present. The past is the past and there is nothing we can do to change it."

Alistair nodded his head, contemplating what she had just said. Kyra watched as he rubbed the back of his neck, and stared into the glowing orange flames.

"Do you remember the name of the Grey Warden who saved you?" He asked, still staring deep into the fire. Kyra thought for a moment.

"I think his name was Duncan."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** The reveal of some of Kyra's past. Honestly, her past was inspired by the song "The Only Exception" by Paramore. I had always had an idea of Kyra's past, but that song just tied it all together.

Anyway, I am back home again so updates will be more frequent. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and as always, I appreciate all of the lovely reviews! Thank you!


	10. Chapter 10: Redcliffe

**Chapter Ten: Redcliffe**

Kyra stared in awe at the looming structure of Redcliffe Castle. For many years she had travelled through the village of Redcliffe and only saw the castle from the shores of Lake Calenhad. She had never seen the castle up close like this before. They were crossing the bridge which connected the castle with the mainland. It was much smaller that the royal castle in Denerim, or even the castle in Highever or Amarathine, which was somewhat surprising, considering that Arl Eamon was a relative of King Cailan's. Nonetheless, it was a grand structure, noble and still standing strong in the midst of a Blight.

Kyra was abruptly held back; she looked down at the strong hand wrapped around her wrist. It was Alistair and he held an uneasy expression on his face.

"Look...can we talk for a moment?" He looked at Kyra.

"Is it your turn now to tell me about the past twenty years of your life?"

"Well…" Alistair hesitated before continuing, "Something like that, yes."

"Oh." She hadn't actually been serious. Alistair slowly released his grip around Kyra's wrist.

"I need to tell you something that I, ah, should probably have told you earlier…"

"Alright?" Kyra folded her arms, listening.

"The Arl," Alistair motioned to the castle, "He raised me. My mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in. The reason he did that was because…well," Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepishly at her.

"Well what?" She looked at him suspiciously, "You've been acting strangely ever since Redcliffe showed up on the horizon. What's going on?"

"Maker…I can't believe I have to tell this story twice in one year…" He looked at her, "Because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my…half-brother, I suppose…" Alistair studied Kyra's face, readying himself to be whiplashed by a lecture about how he should have told her earlier. Instead, she just quietly asked him if he was being serious. He hadn't been expecting that and he gave a sigh of relief, "I am. I'm supposed to be king. But it was always made very clear to me, since I was a child, that the throne was never my place. I was the bastard child of a scullery maid, a commoner, an inconvenience, a threat to Cailan's rule, so they kept me a secret. The throne has always been Cailan's place, not mine, and now that he's…dead, that place is Anora's."

"Anora's?" Kyra looked at him in bewilderment, "You want to give the throne to the daughter of the man who betrayed your brother? Is that a wise decision?"

"Who do you think was ruling the land while Cailan was king? It definitely wasn't him. She's smart and most importantly, she is popular amongst the people of Ferelden."

"That may be true, but what if she's the same as Loghain and betrays you too? What then?"

"I can't be king, Kyra! I don't want to be king. I can hardly look after myself! How am I supposed to look after an entire country?" The fear and helplessness in Alistair's eyes flashed brightly, and Kyra knew how he felt. She sighed.

"Warden, you'd-"

"Maker! Please, call me Alistair. Please. My entire life has been governed by titles: first as the bastard child, then as Grey Warden, and now as King. I just want people to see me as me,funny, quirky Alistair."

"Alright…Alistair, you would be surprised by what you can accomplish when the time calls for it. Great times, call for great men. You've led this group this far, I'm sure being king would be a piece of cake."

"No, Kyra…I wasn't the one who led the group this far. It was Elissa, she did. From the beginning she just took charge and I was more than willing to let her. I can't lead; just look what happens when I do. Zevran nearly died, Zathrian is dead-"

"But that's not your fault," Kyra quickly cut in, "Regardless of who is in charge, injury and death are inevitable. So stop blaming yourself for things that can't be prevented. Zevran is healthy and Zathrian…was unfortunate, but it couldn't have been avoided. Alistair," Kyra placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "it's not your fault." He breathed deeply as he felt Kyra squeeze his shoulder in reassurance, and then let go.

"Now I understand why you want to go back to Ostagar…and perhaps it was chosen by the Maker to be so." She was referring to the man that they had come across in Bann Loren's lands. Alistair had recognized him from Ostagar. He was Elric Maraigne, one of Cailan's honour guards. He had still been wearing the royal colours. He was being harassed by the Bann's men and before Alistair could make his way down to help, the soldier's had run him through, letting him bleed to death there in the forest. They had rushed to his side, and in his last words, he had told them about a chest in Ostagar where King Maric's sword was. He asked them to retrieve it. Wynne hadn't been able to stem the bleeding and Alistair had watched as the second person died in his arms. His armour was still stained with the man's blood.

"Perhaps it was…" Alistair and Kyra hurried to re-join the rest of the group who were waiting for them at the gate at the end of the bridge.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Alistair! I'm glad to see that you have returned safely," The Arl beamed as he greeted them in the lavish hall. They embraced for a moment.

"Alistair," Another man nodded to him in acknowledgement.

"Bann Teagan," Alistair smiled and nodded back.

"Where is Lady Isolde?" Alistair asked, scanning the room for any sign of the woman in question.

"She is upstairs in her quarters. You must please excuse her. She is not feeling her best today," The Arl explained.

"Is she alright?" Alistair asked quickly. The Arl gave a hearty laugh.

"Do not worry, Alistair, my boy. She is alright. It is the changing of the seasons, and she is prone to illness during these times. No demons and no curses, I promise." Kyra watched as he gave a sigh of relief, and gave a small smile to the Arl.

"I am happy to see you all again," The Arl smiled at the group, but a frown suddenly crossed his face, "What has happened to the other Warden?" Alistair quickly averted his eyes.

"She is now with the Maker," Leliana spoke up, sadly.

"I see…" The Arl studied Alistair's downward glancing face, "Alistair, I-"

"We have all the treaties. We can proceed to call the Landsmeet," He spoke, quickly changing the subject, holding out the treaties. The Arl sighed, but took the treaties and inspected them.

"This is good. I shall send word out for a Landsmeet in Denerim, a week from now." Arl Eamon rolled the treaties back up and returned them to the Warden.

"I apologize for your loss, Alistair," The Arl said, "She was a great woman."

"Someone else has joined us, Arl." Alistair gestured to the newest member, "This is Kyra. She joined us in the Brecilian Forest and has agreed to help us fight the Blight."

"Ser," Kyra bowed.

"Your help is greatly appreciated, my Lady," He returned the bow, "Well, you are probably exhausted. Make yourselves at home. You all know the castle well by now. And I'm sure Alistair can show you to a room, Kyra." The Arl gave them a departing smile before turning to leave.

"Arl," Alistair started.

"Yes, my boy?" The Arl turned around.

"I wish to return to Ostagar before the Landsmeet. We came across one of Cailan's honour guards in Bann Loren's lands. They had attacked him, but we couldn't save him. He asked us to retrieve King Maric's sword and Cailan's armoury." Alistair stood up straight, his back square, standing his ground. The Arl glanced at Bann Teagan, who gave a small nod.

"Very well, I will arrange for the Landsmeet to be a fortnight from now. That should be ample enough time to travel to Ostagar and back, and then travel to Denerim for the Landsmeet. When will you be leaving us then?"

"In the morning, I suppose," Alistair shrugged, "We should set out as soon as we can. The weather will only get worse as we travel further south. The winter is probably already in its thick there." The Arl nodded solemnly, before greeting them and leaving.

"Follow me," Alistair turned to Kyra, "I'll show you to a room." She followed him through one of the doors that led off from the hall.

As they climbed the stairs to the upper level, Kyra studied Alistair's drooping shoulders and scowl on his brow. He led her to the last room at the end of the hall, which was decked with Orlesian rugs and antique paintings.

"You can sleep here," He pushed the door opened and gestured for her to enter. The room was generously spacious, with a large, four-poster bed as the centre piece. Off to the left was a large fire place, framed by two luxurious velvet arm chairs and to the right were two bay windows, draped with thin, silky gold curtains. On the floor lay a gold-stitched Orlesian rug in deep reds, to match the Orlesian silk linen on the bed. The walls were adorned with landscape masterpieces and antique bookshelves brimming with tomes. Kyra collapsed onto the featherbed, lavishing as it moulded to the shape of her body and the silk caressed her skin. She closed her eyes and savoured it. She would sleep well tonight. She sensed that Alistair was still in the room and sat back up again.

"Thank you, this is…much more than anything I would have expected," She smiled, running her hands along the silk.

"I'm glad you're happy with it," He smiled mildly in return.

"Where will you be spending the night?" Kyra asked.

"Up the hall, sharing a room with Oghren. I just thought you'd like a room to yourself. If I start staying in my own room, they'll start thinking my kingly status is getting to my head." Kyra found his sense of humour quite amusing. There were a few moments of silence before Alistair turned to go.

"A chamber maid will come to light the fire and will let you know when dinner is ready," He said, turning to leave through the door.

"You loved her didn't you?" Kyra said quickly. Alistair paused, rooted to his spot. He turned around slowly to face Kyra, who was fingering the amulet he had given her.

"Elissa, the other Grey Warden…you loved her," she repeated.

"How…did you know?" He asked quietly, almost in a whisper.

"The heart reveals what smiles betray, Alistair." Kyra gave a small smile, "Your eyes. They gave you away." Alistair instantly looked away and walked up to one of the windows. Kyra stood up and walked over to his side. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, painting the sky a dull orangey-red, and a soft breeze blew in through the open stained-glass window, from over the lake.

"Every time you speak of her or hear her name, sadness fills your heart, and it comes across in your eyes and in your voice. It's the kind of sadness that I've only seen in those who have been in love." Alistair hung his head, closed his eyes and sighed. She watched as he rubbed the back of his neck, which she'd noticed was a nervous twitch of his, and opened his eyes to look at her again.

"Have you ever been in love?" He asked her. Kyra was taken aback by the turn of the conversation.

"No, to be honest, my life hasn't exactly allowed for love to blossom," She replied, "But I have seen it in other people…like you. My mother always told me that originally humans were created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, the Maker split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves."

"Four arms, four legs and a head with two faces? Sounds like something out of the Deep Roads, if you ask me," Alistair gave her that jesting grin of his. She couldn't help but laugh quietly.

"I suppose, but I guess one day, you'll meet that one person who is unlike any other. Who won't judge you, to whom you can tell anything to; your greatest friend and strongest ally, that one person who you should never let go…"

"You think that'll ever happen?" Kyra studied the frown on Alistair's face, the knotted eyebrows and sad downturn of his lips.

"I don't know. I thought that about my parents…and look what happened there. But then there are others who love each other undyingly," She shrugged, "I guess we just have to spend the rest of lives searching for that other person if we're to ever find out if love is really meant for us or not. Maybe they'll be on the other side of the world or maybe they have been standing right in front of you all along."

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"So tell me, how _did _you manage to survive in the Wilds all by yourself?" Zevran asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Kyra. She was shocked by the fact that he even knew.

"Word travels fast in small groups, my Lady," He chuckled. Kyra looked at the rest of her companions sitting at the table. Leliana had sat down closer to Kyra to hear the rest of the story, Oghren and Sten were bickering over something at the head of the table, while Wynne was nowhere to be seen and Morrigan was minding her own business. They were having dinner in the great dining room, with a table laid out with every form of delicacy imaginable.

"I swear on Andraste's sacred ashes, I said nothing to the mischief," Alistair said, sitting down on Kyra's other side. She placed her cutlery down next to her plate and swallowed the delectable piece of quail in her mouth.

"Hide and seek," Kyra replied hesitantly. Zevran gave her a puzzled look. "Hide from what could hurt me and seek out what would save me. It was simple enough. It took me a while to figure out though, with a few run in's with wolves, bears and darkspawn, before I learned."

"What about the Chasind? Did you ever encounter them?" Leliana asked, taking a sip from her glass of wine.

"I steered cleared of them. I steered clear of any people actually. Most people were hostile to strangers and posed a threat to my safety, so it was better to just stay away from them all together. But I did follow their hunters and watched what they gathered for food. That's how I learned which plants were edible and which were poisonous."

"In the Wilds, the most beautiful flower always turns out to be poisonously deadly. Like that one," Alistair pointed his knife in the direction of Morrigan, giving her an icy glare.

"So you are saying that she's beautiful?" Kyra smirked devilishly.

"What? No! I mean, yes, she is, but- No!" Alistair cried defensively, the tips of his ears a deep crimson.

"I jest! I jest," Kyra laughed.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," He now pointed the knife at her.

"I know, I know," She giggled again, popping a ripe, wine-coloured grape into her mouth. She savoured the taste as she bit through it.

"So you never came across another soul while you were out there?" Zevran found it difficult to believe. She shook her head, "No…except from one person, a girl. She was probably a year or two older than me, I suppose. I had come across her picking herbs, in the place which I called 'home' for the time, a small, protected thicket. I think she had been just as surprised to see me out there in the middle of nowhere as I had been."

"Who was she?" Leliana asked, eyes twinkling, her love of stories shining brightly.

"I don't know. We never exchanged pleasantries. She was probably Chasind, though she didn't look like such. I came across her a couple times actually. Over time we became…friends, I guess you could say. She showed me how to build a proper fire and the very basics of herbalism. I got the feeling that she was teaching me all this, as she learned it."

"From whom would she have learnt it? Where could she possibly go? Or…" the cogs in Zevran's mind started turning, "Perhaps she was a Witch of the Wilds!"

"The younger version of Morrigan, yes…" Alistair agreed, "Though I doubt Morrigan was ever actually born from anything. I don't believe this whole story that Flemeth is her mother. I think she just spawned out of the filth and decay of the swamp itself; the _essence_ of the swamp in human form."

"You believe in far too many superstitions, Alistair," Morrigan retorted, she had been quiet thus far, "They are unreasonable beliefs based on ignorance and fears. Tis the religion of feeble minds. Only fools listen to the stories their mothers tell them at night." Alistair pulled a face at her before placing a piece of beef in his mouth.

"Kyra? Is something wrong?" Leliana asked, watching the woman closely. She had grown quiet and was staring off into the distance, her eyes fixated on something else. She wore a baffled expression, her head cocked to one side.

"Kyra?" Alistair shook her softly when she didn't respond to their calling. Suddenly she came back, blinking rapidly.

"Are you alright?" Zevran asked her.

"Hm? Oh, yes," She smiled sheepishly, "My…my just mind started to wander. Sorry." She took a long drink of her cider – she didn't drink wine like the others.

"Do you know what happened to this girl?" Leliana asked, breaking the silence.

"No," Kyra took another mouthful of her drink, "I was waiting for her one day, at the spot we usually met at, but she never came. Instead, in her place, there was a dagger and a cloak-"

"The one you always wear," Zevran announced observantly. Kyra nodded.

"I never saw her again."

"What do you think happened to her? That she would just disappear like that?" Alistair asked.

"I'm not sure. If she was Chasind, then perhaps she had been killed in an attack on her village. If she was a 'Witch of the Wilds' then perhaps she fled from the Templars that were rumoured to hunt her down. Perhaps she grew tired of life alone in the Korcari Wilds and decided to join the rest of humanity. Anything could have happened…" Kyra shot a wary glance in Morrigan's direction, who looked back at her uneasily. They held each other's gaze for a few moments, before Morrigan stood up to leave.

"And if you would excuse me," She said in her most blasé of tones, "I grow weary of folk stories."

"Don't mind her," Alistair uttered to Kyra, throwing an unconcerned look at Morrigan as she left, "She wouldn't know a good story even if it slapped her in the face."

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Kyra walked the stone halls of the castle, listening to the laughter of her companions echo off the walls. Oghren and Sten had finally settled whatever differences they had had with a bout of grunting and snarling at each other ferociously before settling down with some tall glasses of ale. Zevran, Alistair and Leliana were still bent over, having a good laugh about it.

She quickly trotted up the stairs, before turning down the hall to her room. She rubbed at the knot in her neck that had developed as she pushed the hefty wooden door open. She was startled to see Morrigan standing by the fire that had been lit.

"Do not fret. Tis only I," She turned to face Kyra.

"What are you doing here?" But Kyra didn't need to ask. She already knew the answer.

"The stories of your childhood adventures are quite…intriguing," Morrigan started, turning back to the fire once again, with a hint of a smirk at the corner of her lips, "Encounters with darkspawn, peculiar children and bold Wardens." Kyra didn't say anything.

"You know," Morrigan smiled at Kyra, "Twas not for me, you wouldn't have survived very long out there in the Wilds. But I see my teaching has done well, and the scrawny girl is now a fearless woman."

"So it is you…" Kyra gasped.

"I thought I recognized the clasp on your cloak, but I did not want to voice anything until I was certain."

Kyra immediately regarded the necklace around Morrigan's neck and saw that it was indeed of the same tribal style as the clasp on her cloak.

"Where did you go?" Kyra asked, remembering how her only companion had forsaken her. Any and all faint hint of a smile on Morrigan's face instantly evaporated.

"There were…unforeseen complications. The Templars had found us and Flemeth had felt in necessary that we relocate to…elsewhere, in the Wilds." Morrigan turned to Kyra, a suggestion of sadness in her amber eyes, "I…did not wish to leave, but 'twas not my decision to make. I wanted to sketch you a map, I thought that perhaps you weren't as foolish as you looked and you would be able to find us again. But Flemeth was adamant that we leave immediately," Morrigan looked up from her hands and gave her a small smile, "It looks like you aren't at all as witless as I believed you to be." Kyra's mind wandered to the many years ago, to when her only friend had suddenly and unexpectedly left. She remembered feeling more alone than she would ever feel again, scared and disheartened, but as this girl had taught her…Kyra turned that fear and loneliness into the driving force behind her survival. She had in fact much thanks to give to Morrigan and her teaching, as brash and callous and unforgiving as she had been at times.

"So you always were an apostate," Kyra said rather than asked, as she sat down in one of the velvet chairs.

"That is right," Morrigan sat down in the other. Kyra remembered how she had watched Morrigan spin, probably the simplest of spells; fire flaming from the palm of her hand at the snap of a finger or how she could shape-shift into a wolf or spider. She remembered Morrigan watching her as she too tried, but failed, to perform the same magical talents, though Morrigan had been adamant that one day she would get it right.

"How strange it is that our paths should cross again, so many years later…" Morrigan watched the flames crackle and splinter. Kyra was still finding it difficult to process the information that she was receiving. Morrigan raised her eyebrow as Kyra quickly jumped up from her place and walked over to the other side of the room. She picked up her pack and started riffling around for a few moments before growing still. Kyra walked back over to Morrigan.

"Here, this belongs to you…" Kyra watched as Morrigan's eyes widened with recognition. She gingerly took the ragdoll from Kyra and cautiously fingered it, as if it were a crystal vase or precious gem. Kyra had had that doll since she'd been born, and took it with her after she ran away from home. She had given it to Morrigan as a gift of sorts, to thank her for helping her, but when Morrigan disappeared, it been lying neatly next to the dagger and cloak. She hadn't mentioned it in her story because, ironically, she feared that her companions might see her as childish. Many years avoiding people and she still cared about what others thought of her.

"I used to sleep with this under my pillow," Morrigan gave a small chuckle, caressing the dolls tattered hair and dress, "and carry it on my person at all times. I was so fearful that Flemeth would find it and destroy it too."

"Why did you give it back? I gave it to you to keep." Kyra sat back down in her chair.

"I gave it back because, along with the cloak and dagger, I knew…that you needed it. More than I," She looked up at Kyra, "I had Flemeth, and though our relationship – if you could even call it that – was probably less…than loving, I still her had. You, on the other hand, were impossibly alone. This piece of ragged cloth and stuffing gave me joy and I thought that perhaps you needed some joy in your life too, no matter how small the amount." The two grown women took each other in, admiring how the other had grown in the years that they had not seen each other. Neither had expected to see the other again, especially not in such circumstances, but both were glad that they had once again found a friend.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Knock, knock," Alistair peeked his head around the door, "I brought you something."

"Your shirts that need mending?" Kyra took the satchel that Alistair handed to her, "I've noticed that they need some fixing."

"I already gave them to Wynne," Alistair smiled, "but if that's an offer I'll bring them to you next time." Kyra rolled her eyes and opened the satchel.

"It's some of the supplies that Elissa left behind; seems like she only took some of her things with us when we left. One of the chamber maids found it in the room Elissa had been staying in and kept it for when she returned, but…now that's she…well-" Alistair sat down on the edge of the bed, "I thought you might need it. I only took a quick peak but it seems only to be some medical supplies and a blanket, much warmer than the one you're using now. You're going to need it too."

"Thank you, Alistair," Kyra smiled at him.

"I saw Morrigan coming out of your room earlier. What evil plan has she thought up now?"

"No evil plan."

"Then what did she want?"

"Nothing."

"Morrigan not wanting something from you? Impossible. She always has an agenda of her own. She must have wanted something."

"She didn't want anything, promise. No evil plots to overthrow your leadership, I swear." Kyra smiled. Alistair eyed her suspiciously.

"Alright, if you say so…" He stood up, "Well, now that my duty is done, I guess I'll be off."

"Alistair, wait," Kyra grabbed hold of his arm, but quickly released once he turned around, "I…wanted to ask you for a favour."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'd like to stop in Lothering tomorrow before we head to Ostagar."

"You do know that Lothering has been completely destroyed, right?"

"Yes, I know-"

"Then what do you want to do there?"

"I have some things that I would like to retrieve from one of the houses."

Alistair folded his arms, "Things?"

"I have these 'stashes' around Ferelden – Lothering, Denerim, Orzammar-" Kyra explained.

"Orzammar? Why would you have a stash there?"

"Never mind that, they are just places where I can store the weapons, armour and other supplies that I happen to come across while I travel."

"Well, if it's weapons and armour you're looking for, you can get all of that here. The Arl will supply you with whatever you need. Lothering will add at least an extra day to our travels."

"I appreciate and understand that, but I'd prefer to use my own equipment. Not to offend the Arl and such, I'm sure the quality of his armour and weapons are excellent, but if I'm going to be putting myself in front of darkspawn and the archdemon, I'd like to do so with weapons and armour that I know have served me well in the past. And I can't very well keep going into battle with nothing more than two basic daggers, which to darkspawn do no more damage than what letter openers would, and I only have so many arrows I can use."

"Could you not have mentioned this before we reached Redcliffe yesterday? Lothering was on our way from the Brecilian Forest. By now, the darkspawn would have looted everything in that town."

"There's no way that they would have found it. No one would be able to find it apart from myself. And I would have mentioned it, but that was before I knew we'd be going to the darkspawn infested ruins of Ostagar," Kyra argued, "If you wish that we not go, then that is fine. I won't question your decision." Alistair sighed, he knew that he'd prefer to take his trusty shield and enchanted Oathkeeper into battle, rather than weapons he had picked up the night before.

"I could go alone, if you don't want to make the journey yourself. I would only be a day behind-"

"No, that's out of the question. You're not going anywhere by yourself. I don't want you getting killed as well," Alistair said firmly, "We will go to Lothering and you can gather what you need there." Kyra gave a sigh of relief, "Thank you." He smiled meekly at her, the anger in his chest subsiding. He couldn't stay mad at her.

"You should get to sleep," Kyra suggested, touching his arm gently.

"I suppose." They walked together to the door.

"Thank you for bringing me the blanket and supplies," Kyra said, leaning her head against the door. Alistair could see how her own eyelids hung heavy, asking for sleep.

"That's what I'm here for. To deliver extra supplies and witty one-liners." Kyra laughed quietly.

"Well," he turned to go, "goodnight."

"Goodnight, Alistair."

Kyra dumped out the contents of her satchel, sorting through her things before taking out the contents of the bag Alistair had brought her. She pulled out the extra health poultices and placed them to one side before pulling out the hefty woollen blanket. As she did so something fell to the floor. Kyra bent down to pick up a leather bound book, with a long tether that wrapped around it to keep it shut. She put the blanket down on the bed and started unravelling the tether. It was stained with flecks of blood and water and dirt. Kyra opened the cover and paged past the first couple blank pages.

"I don't even know what month it is anymore, let alone what day it is…but if I were to guess, it would be somewhere around the beginning of May. The flowers are beginning to bloom and the trees are growing new leaves; it is the beginning of spring…Two months since the horrendous events at Highever Castle, two months since I joined the Grey Wardens…"

* * *

**Author's Notes: **A few secrets revealed in this chapter: Alistair is King Maric's son, Kyra and Morrigan know each other and Kyra seems to have found the deceased Warden's journal. Currently working on Chapter 10, so it should be up soon.

As always, thank you to all of those who read this! And thank you to all of those we send reviews! I appreciate all of the input!


	11. Chapter 11: Return to Ostagar

**Chapter Eleven: Return to Ostagar**

Alistair picked up his armour, shiny and clean, from one of the Arl's men. He strapped the different pieces on, methodically and almost absentmindedly, like he had done every day for the past year. He picked up his sword and shield, and thanked the man, before joining the rest of the group who had gathered outside in the fresh morning air. Everyone was gathering the last bits of their things, readying to leave for Ostagar.

"Oghren and Sten are still eating inside," Wynne reported to Alistair as she joined him, Leliana, Morrigan and Zevran outside.

"Where is Kyra?" Leliana asked, strapping her bracers on firmly. Alistair looked to Morrigan.

"Do not look at me like that, you fool," Morrigan glared back at him, "She was _alive_ and well when I left her last night. I did not do anything to her!"

"I better go and check for myself. Can't trust the words of an apostate," Alistair snapped and Morrigan rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in irritation.

He walked the long hall way and up the stairs to the guestrooms to where Kyra's room was. He stopped in front of the door, but heard no movement from inside. He knocked on the door a few times, with no reply, before announcing that he was coming in. Slowly, Alistair opened the door and peeked inside. The room was in the same state as it was last night, with Kyra's things lying at the foot of the bed and her cloak draped over the footboard.

"Kyra…" He called out quietly, approaching the bed. She was still sound asleep, Alistair sure to check that her chest was in fact still rising and falling.

"Kyra," He called again, gently shaking her. She stirred slightly, mumbling something to herself.

"Wakey, wakey. Time to head off to Lothering…" He whispered, shaking her gently again. This time her eyes flickered open a couple times, before she blinked and looked around.

"Alistair?" She asked, propping herself up on her elbow, rubbing her eyes.

"Sorry to wake you," He smiled apologetically, "but we've got to get a move on soon."

"Maker's breath! Have I slept for so long? Just give me a moment and I'll be ready in five minutes!" She quickly jumped up, throwing the silk blankets off her.

"Woah, slow down," Alistair grabbed hold of her arm, "Take your time. Get dressed, eat something too. You need all the strength you can get. Today is going to be a long day." Kyra blushed slightly at her overreaction and also by the fact that she was standing in front of him in nothing more but her nightdress.

"We'll be waiting outside for you," He smiled and then walked towards and out the door.

"Andraste…" Kyra pressed her cold hands against her cheeks, trying to cool their burning.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Well, here we are…Lothering. Pretty as a picture, isn't it?" Alistair announced sarcastically as they neared the desecrated ruins of the village. It felt surreal to be back in Lothering – or what remained of it anyway. It had been about a year since he had last been here…and then it had only been with Morrigan, Elissa and her Mabari, Hania. This is where they had met Leliana, where they had recruited Sten…They were on the western side of the town, travelling on the Imperial Highway. Thankfully, there was debris and a lot of shrubbery to hide them. As Alistair had suspected, the town was swarming with darkspawn.

"This is a bad idea…" Alistair said as he watched two Hurlock Vanguards walk about. Further away he could make out an Emissary and at least a dozen or so Genlocks.

"It'll be fine," Kyra replied, but even her heart was now in her throat.

"Someone has to go with you," Alistair insisted, turning to the group.

"No. _I_ want to go in there and retrieve my things. I'm not going to risk their lives too." She shook her head, "If I'm alone, all I have to do is look after myself. I know my strength and my weaknesses and I know what I'm capable of. Give me fifteen minutes."

"I agree with Alistair," Wynne frowned, "This is not a good idea."

"Kyra, let me come with you," Leliana offered.

"No," Kyra shook her head again, "No. I will do this by myself." She unclasped the cloak from around her neck and placed it down with anything else she wasn't going to need. She slung her pack on her back.

"Fifteen minutes," She said to Alistair before slinking off into the direction of the town.

"Nice kid, been good fighting with her. Best be looking for a new recruit, Alistair," Oghren plonked down next to a tree. Everyone turned to glare at him.

"That is _not_ reassuring, Oghren."

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Kyra tip-toed quickly behind the wreckage of some overturned wagons; she held her breath as group of Genlocks marched past. Up ahead was the beginning of the town or what was left of it, the burned remains of buildings. Some of them were still standing remarkably; others were nothing more than a pile of ashes. Everything everywhere was covered in a layer of blood and soot, and the air still smelt of human decay. _The faster we get out of here…the better_, Kyra thought. There was a large gap between the last wagon and the first building and Kyra had to summon all her courage to quickly dash from one to the other. Her heart was pounding in her chest, thundering in her ears like a charging Bronto. She looked down at her shaking hands and thought that perhaps Alistair had been right. Suddenly, she heard the sickish gurgle and husky laugh of a group of darkspawn that were approaching, their armoury and weapons clinking as they drew closer. Kyra's heart skipped a couple beats. She frantically looked around for some place to hide and just as the group came around the corner, she managed to haul herself through the window of one of the half standing buildings nearby. She gave a sigh of relief when the thrall had walked by without detecting her, but she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from crying out when she saw what was in front of her. The mangled and decayed remains of a slaughtered family lay scattered around the house. Limbs lying dispersed across the floor, while the bodies were pinned against the walls by daggers and swords. Layers of dried blood caked the walls and the floor and even what remained of the ceiling. The stench of death was now prominent in her nostrils. Kyra hastily hauled herself back out of the house and continued in the direction of the house which she had stashed her belongings. Eventually, Kyra reached the building. It was thankfully one of the few partially standing structures remaining. It had been an abandoned house when Kyra had taken use of it a few years ago, but it seemed the Chantry had decided to place some of its extra belongings in there too. There were chests and a large pile of books and pews piled onto one another and broken alters. Kyra quickly padded over to the corner of the room and pushed aside the pile of books. Underneath it looked like a normal wooden floor, but she knew better. She pulled at the wooden plank until it gave way to reveal a latched trapdoor and pulled out a small pouch of keys and removed the one for this particular latch. She opened the door and stuck her hand inside and picked up the first bundle that her fingertips touched.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Calm down, Alistair, I'm sure she's alright," Leliana placed a soft hand on his shoulder, but she too had a knot in her stomach. Surely it had been longer than fifteen minutes. Alistair stopped pacing and scanned the desecrated town in front of him again. He had seen an Ogre, five Hurlock vanguards, two Emissaries and at least fifty or so Genlocks and Hurlocks…but no Kyra. He felt a very strong sense of foreboding. All of a sudden an arrow flew past and hit the tree they were standing by. Had they been discovered? Alistair knew it could only be too good to be true that the darkspawn hadn't sensed him by now. Everyone frantically looked in the direction that it had come from. They lowered their weapons and Alistair gave a sigh of relief. It was Kyra; she was already standing on the broken, arched highway, waiting for them. The group stealthily made their way to the highway and then in the opposite direction of the town.

"Maker…" Before Kyra knew what was happening, Alistair had his arms wrapped around her and was holding her close. She stood in shock, trying to understand what was going on. It felt strange to have someone else's body pressed up against hers, their warmth soaking into. She could feel Alistair's breath against her neck and his warm skin against her cheek. Then as quickly as he had embraced her, Alistair let her go again, clearing his throat and blushing slightly.

"I, uh, I'm glad you're alright," He quickly said, trying to ignore the glances his companions were giving him. Kyra was still trying to process his hug.

"Did you get what you need?" Wynne asked, touching Kyra on the shoulder.

"Oh…yes," She looked slowly away from Alistair who was rubbing the back of his neck and looking uncomfortable. She opened her pack and quickly stowed away her bow and clasped her cloak that Leliana had handed her, back around her neck.

"Do you not think it would be best if we were to eliminate these darkspawn?" Sten asked, watching the village, "That is what our purpose is, is it not?"

"Already thought of that," Kyra replied. Alistair eyed her suspiciously, "You dealt with the ogre, the five Vanguards, the two Emissaries and the fifty Genlocks and Hurlocks walking around there?" But before Kyra could reply, Alistair got his answer. They all flinched as a massive explosion engulfed the ruins of Lothering and the darkspawn too. Their cries could be heard in between consecutive smaller explosions.

"Explosives?" Alistair asked.

"No, just some shock bombs and fire bombs I had stowed away. Lit a fuse and ran for my life." They started to walk, leaving the burning ruins behind.

"How many is 'some'?"

"Fifty or so…each."

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Their travelling was starting to show progress. It had taken them a day and a half to travel from Redcliffe to Lothering, and would take another full day of travel to reach Ostagar. They were now close. The temperature had dropped sharply and the ground was now covered in an ever thickening layer of snow.

Alistair had stopped them just a couple miles short of Ostagar; he could see the ruins on the horizon. He had anticipated many more darkspawn on the roads. Frankly, he had been expecting to be fighting his way through a sea of them all the way to Ostagar. But there had been few, only a patch here or there and were no trouble to eliminate. Now, standing on the ridge of the cliff where they had decided to set up camp, Alistair watched out onto the ruins. His mind wandered to the battle and the sky darkened in his mind, the flames rose in the silhouette of the Tower and cries of battle and death echoed in his ears. His mind was jolted back to the present with the sound of someone approaching from behind. He watched out the corner of his eye as Kyra joined him by his side. She folded her arms, trying to ward of the cold, and watched out over the land too.

"At least the crows have lessened…" She was referring to the distant circling of black crows over the battlefield. There were indeed only a few…Alistair could only imagine that there had been a cloud of them the day after the battle, picking and scavenging at the dead bodies. He didn't like the thought.

"The tower was still burning when I was last here…" Kyra pointed off into the distance, painting a picture with her hand, "The smoke billowed out of the Tower as if it were a chimney. And the air…ugh, the stench of death was unbearable…" Alistair felt sick to the stomach and closed his eyes as he tried to stop the memories from flooding back into his mind.

"Alistair," His eyes flickered back open as Kyra touched his shoulder, "you should come eat." She gestured to the camp fire, and more than ever it looked welcoming. There was a pot on the fire, bubbling away and each of his companions was sitting around it, their blankets draped over their shoulders. He sat down next to Wynne, who gently gripped his hand and smiled reassuringly. She too had been at the battle that night. She too had seen so many of her friends and comrades being slaughtered at the hands of the darkspawn. It was surely not easy for her to be back there as well. They ate a wholesome stew that Kyra had made with the two rabbits she had managed to catch. A sombre mood hung over them, each of them dwelling in their own thoughts.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Alistair sat down next to the fire, after having taken a quick walk around the perimeter of the camp to check that nothing looked suspicious. His Warden senses were on high alert and it didn't help that he felt nervous and jumped at every snapping twig and falling leaf. Kyra was inspecting the equipment that she had salvaged from Lothering.

"So what did you manage to get?" He asked her, watching as she laid out her things before her.

"Oh, just the basics…" She replied. She held up a strange looking dagger. It was a purplish hue and its blade curved in and out at awkward angles.

"The Voice of Velvet," She started, "The elven assassin, Corimae, used this dagger to open the throat of a nobleman who refused to take her as a lover. Or so the story goes."

Alistair took it in his hands, feeling the runes energy on his fingertips, "Did Zathrian give you this?"

Kyra smiled, "Ironically, no. It was the dagger I received with the cloak. The best battle-dagger I have ever come across."

"What about _my_ dagger?" He asked, remembering the comment Kyra had made about it back in the Brecilian forest. Kyra laughed.

"I praised its craftsmanship. How it fairs in battle is an entirely different thing. Since it is Dwarven made, I can only assume that it is good," She smiled and took back her dagger, "But regardless of how well it is made or who made it, it won't be able to replace the trust I have in my own blade." Alistair nodded in understanding. He then motioned to the other dagger and the armoury.

"This battle-dagger," Kyra picked it up and played with it in her hands, "this I found in the Free Marches, carelessly discarded by its owner." The whole blade glowed a gold colour and curved like the body of a snake. Inlayed in the hilt was a tear shaped flawless ruby. "The armour is a set I acquired a long time ago actually. I never found any use for it, until now. The set is called Blackblade-"

"As in the Blackblade Assassin's?"

"Spot on, Warden. They apparently disbanded after Deron Blackblade's lover poisoned him for forgetting his birthday. This is one of the assassin's sets. Made from High Dragon hide. When I first acquired it, it didn't fit too well. I had to get it fitted and altered, so I had the blacksmith reinforce the breastplate, gauntlets and bracers with Dragonbone. So even if you could get the blade to cut through the hide, you'd have to use a mighty force to break the Dragonbone." Kyra smiled lovingly at the piece of master craftsmanship in her hands.

"Happy to face the Archdemon now?" Alistair asked, glad to see that his newest companion was satisfied. But before she could answer, Alistair motioned for her to be quiet. His Warden sense was screaming away. It was very difficult to describe, the feeling he got when he sensed darkspawn nearby. It was almost as if his blood was bubbling in his veins, searing through tissue and muscle. And the more darkspawn there were…the stronger the feeling. He stood up from his seat and scanned the dark surroundings. He couldn't see anything, but he knew something was there. Something was wrong, very wrong. Then out of nowhere, a bolt of electricity hurled towards them, but it was badly directed and was thankfully too far left of them. But the first move had been made and the darkspawn raced out of the black towards them.

"Wake the others! Now!" Alistair cried before racing over to his tent to pick up his shield and sword lying outside of it. Kyra quickly picked up her daggers and ran to wake the others. She slammed her dagger into the back of Hurlock, who shrieked in pain before she quickly silenced it with slice through the neck. Thankfully, the rest of the group had emerged from their tents, wielding weapons in their hands.

"Can't even get a sodding good night's sleep!" Oghren yelled furiously, swinging his battle axe, wiping a Genlock off its feet and slamming his weapon back down through the creature's middle. Morrigan and Wynne stood together, weaving a powerful spell and sending a massive chain of lighting through a group of Hurlocks who collapsed and writhed and thrashed as the electricity coursed through their bodies. Sten had managed to back a group of darkspawn, unknowingly, dangerously close to the end of a cliff and with one mighty push sent them tumbling over the edge. Zevran, with his swiftness and finesse, worked together with Leliana to take down darkspawn after darkspawn, while Alistair ran his sword through what seemed to be the final one.

"Is that it?" Zevran asked almost disappointedly, though he was breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. Alistair looked out into the dark that lay before them. All the darkspawn that lay around them were dead, but still the blood boiled in his veins. There had to be more. The earth thundered and rumbled suddenly underneath their feet. They staggered as they were caught unawares. It was a methodical thundering, and the pattern let them know what was coming even before they heard the monstrous roar and saw the enormous bulk of body that emerged. They all stepped back as the ogre stepped forward. Kyra had heard about ogres and had seen them from a very comfortable distance, but never had she thought that she'd see one up close, alive…and now have to kill it. The monster roared again, deafening them. From behind it emerged more darkspawn.

"Get rid of the other darkspawn," Alistair ordered, not once looking away from the towering ogre, "Morrigan, you help me distract it." With that they scattered in different directions. Kyra and the others fell as many darkspawn as quickly as they could, trying to avoid being squashed by the ogre. Morrigan and Alistair taunted the monster trying to keep its attention away from the rest of the group, which they weren't managing too well. It slammed its fists down into the ground, causing Wynne who had been standing nearby to lose her footing. Sten had the drag her out the way before the creature brought its fists down again, on her.

"Leliana!" Kyra cried, "Take the bow! Distract it!" Leliana caught the pack Kyra had thrown her and quickly pulled out the bow and quiver.

"Face me, creature!" She yelled, firing arrow after arrow in rapid succession at the creature, the Dragonbone tips doing their job and puncturing the leathery skin. The ogre bellowed and charged after Leliana. Morrigan shot it with a blot of lightening as it closed in on Leliana to turn it away from her. Kyra withdrew her blade from the last standing darkspawn and turned her attention to the ogre, only to see it swipe Sten up in its fists. The Qunari let out a furious cry of his own, but they could all hear that it was laced with pain. Leliana rushed up from the side, picked up a discarded sword and drove it into the ogre's calf. The blood flowed like a river as she twisted the blade, trying to cause as much pain as possible. Another ear-splitting roar rumbled around them as the ogre released Sten, but only to swipe his fist at Leliana. She couldn't move out of the way quickly enough and was slammed into the nearest tree, with the audible sound of breaking bone. Everyone held their breath to see if she would rise again. Slowly Leliana stirred, managing to pull herself to relative safety away from the ogre, holding her broken arm close to her body.

"Get over to Leliana!" Alistair ordered Wynne. She ran over quickly to Leliana, trying to stay as far away from the lumbering giant as she could.

"Let's finish this," Alistair turned to Kyra and the others.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"That's the last of the bastards," Oghren wiped his hands off on his trousers. Alistair turned his attention to the body of the ogre.

"There's no way we'll be able to move that," Kyra stated, "Throwing the rest of the corpses was difficult enough."

"You're right…" Alistair turned back to the now destroyed camp. Wynne was busy patching up the last of the wounded. They had all survived, with only minor injuries; Leliana, with a broken arm, and Sten with a cracked rib, the worst off. Everyone else had the usual cuts and lacerations to deal with.

"We are not going to set off again, are we?" Zevran asked as he walked up to them, "We won't be able to see anything without some form of torch or something. Not only do we need to worry about darkspawn ambushing us, but wolves and other night creatures too."

"You have a point…"

"I say we stay here. We can at least defend it."

"If we stay here, I don't want to be looking at that bloody corpse the whole night." Oghren pointed to the ogre's body.

"Sorry, Oghren, but it looks like you're going to have to. There's no way we'll be able to move it."

"You nughumpers. It's only a few feet to the edge of the cliff," He _was_ right, "Otherwise, it looks like I'm going to have to chop it up into pieces and throw off little by little."

"Oghren, that's revolting." Kyra looked like she was about to be sick.

"Then help me move the bugger!"

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I apologize for the extremely long time of inactivity! Things have been extremely hectic with just unexpected problems popping up left and right! Also, I've been having a little bit of a writer's block and I've started...three other stories recently, all still in the works. So my mind has been all over the place! Forgive me?

This chapter has been finished for a very long time, but I just never got round to posting it. Hopefully, I'll get over this writer's block and be able to finish Chapter twelve. I know what's supposed to happen...I just can't find the right words.


	12. Chapter 12: A Royal Cremation

**Chapter Twelve: A Royal Cremation**

Alistair, Kyra, Oghren and Wynne, chased an Emissary through the snow laden ruins of Ostagar. They rounded the corner and suddenly stopped in their tracks. The Emissary was gone. Before them was the great bridge that connected the Tower of Ishal with the rest of Ostagar.

"He must be on the other side," Kyra said, panting. Frustrated, Alistair swung his sword, lodging it deep into the trunk of a tree.

"Maker's breath…" he grumbled as he tried to dislodge it again. The four of them stood there, taking a minute to gather themselves.

"I hope the others are alright…" Wynne said the words that were on everyone's mind. The attack of the previous night had rattled everyone. Most of them didn't sleep the rest of the night. Morrigan and Zevran had stayed behind to look after Leliana and Sten. Everyone hoped that the darkspawn didn't try to attack again. Something caught Kyra's eye and she moved closer to get a better look. Something was on the middle of the bridge…it looked like…

"What is it?" Alistair asked when he saw her expression. All she could do point in the direction.

"Maker help us…"

They stood in front if Cailan's body, which had been pinned up to some sickly structure that the darkspawn had erected. They had stripped him bare and used him for target practice, from the look of all the arrows that were sticking out of his body. Kyra looked at Alistair, who just stared up at his once half-brother. Kyra saw him clench his teeth, and tighten his grip around his sword and shield. She looked at Wynne, who wore a worried look on her face. Oghren, for once, had nothing to say. She looked back at Alistair who hung his head and held his eyes shut. She reached out to touch his shoulder, but a familiar sound drew all their attention away from the mangled body of the former king. On the other side of the bridge was the Emissary, who was laughing, spinning a new spell. Alistair looked up at his brother and then back at the darkspawn.

"Forgive us, my king. Once we've flushed the darkspawn from their holes and bought ourselves some time, we'll be back to see you to the Maker." Kyra saw the fire burning bright in his eyes.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Alistair sheathed his sword and stowed his shield, as they returned to King Cailan's body. They had chased the Emissary all the way through the Tower of Ishal, and down onto the battlefield below, massacring every darkspawn they came across. They're weapons were thick with their blood. The fire in Alistair had helped him deal the fatal blow to fell the resurrected ogre they had fought in the battlefield. He still held onto the dagger's he had pulled from the creatures chests…the daggers that both he and Kyra recognized to be Duncan's.

"They just left him here to rot…" Alistair said sadly, barely able to look at Cailan's body, "We have to do something." He turned to Wynne.

"He is of royal blood," she started, "he deserves a pyre." Alistair nodded and looked back up at his brother.

"He was a good man who hoped too much…and died too young. He deserves what little honour we can afford to grant him." And so, they managed to bring down the structure and Cailan's body. Wynne even made a make shift stretcher as to carry him more dignifiedly. They took him to a slightly wooded area on higher ground, that over looked the battlefield. It was there they placed the king, folding his arms across his chest. It was there that Kyra and Wynne stoked a fire to cremate him.

"Are you alright, Alistair?" Kyra asked, sitting down next to the Warden. He picked up one of the pieces of Cailan's armour and turned it over in his hands.

"I don't know…" He shrugged, a dark scowl on his face, "It just feels…_wrong_ to find this here, pawed over by the darkspawn and thick with their rot. It was _his_." Kyra sat quietly, watching him. His eyes seemed to look past the armour, past everything.

"I know he was not the first king to die in battle…or the first to fall to the darkspawn, nor will he be the last. But this wound…this wound cuts deeper."

Kyra placed a hand on Alistair's, bringing him out of where ever he was in his head, "And it will bleed longer. But all wounds heal. They grow back shut and leave only a scar. You just have to give it time…" He looked at her the look on his face pleading her.

"I don't want _scars_, Kyra. I want my brother back…" Alistair looked away, "I may not have been close to him…Maker, he didn't even know that I existed, but he was still my brother. He was the only family I had left. Father, dead. Mother, dead. Goldana…well," Alistair scoffed, "…and now, Cailan…"

"Goldana?" Kyra asked.

"Yes, she is…was my sister. She lives in Denerim. I went to visit her. I thought that she'd be pleased to see her brother…boy, was I wrong." Alistair shook his head, "Even Elissa…she's gone…the last person that was holding it all together. Now, now I have no one."

"That's not true, Alistair," she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, "you still have us. It's not family, in the sense that you want it…but I think it's a pretty good replacement."

"You think so?" Alistair looked up at Kyra again, her mismatched eyes glowing softly.

"I do. In all my years of travelling…this is the best group I have ever travelled with. You all understand each other, just by a wave of a hand or a glance, you'll know what the other one meant by it. Even though you may not admit it, you all care immensely for one another...and that's what really matters. Not whether you have the same blood flowing in your veins."

Alistair smiled, "I suppose you're right. They've been there for me far more than what my family ever was."

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

They were now travelled to Denerim. They had spent the previous night, after the long journey back, at Redcliffe castle, glad to be in a place that gave them warmth from the cold and a safe place to sleep at night. Arl Eamon had called for the Landsmeet and all the nobles were to be in Denerim by the end of the week. They were due to arrive a few days earlier, allowing them time to prepare. Alistair though did not seem to be relishing the idea of the Landsmeet. He had been even more depressed since they had returned to Redcliffe. He knew that _there_ his fate would be laid out before him. It was there that the decision would be made of who was to rule Ferelden…and the rising fear in his stomach didn't help to comfort him.

They travelled along the Imperial Highway. A convoy of armed guards and mounted rider rode up front and alongside them, to protect them from whatever may come, be it darkspawn or bandits. Everyone was in a frenzied state, everyone talking amongst themselves in hushed tones about the 'miracles' that had happened. Leliana's broken arm was healed and so was Sten's broken ribs. Many of them believed it to be the grace of the Maker, once again shining down on them. Others were more sceptical…

"Leliana, please! Keep that arm of yours in the sling!" Wynne scolded. Leliana was dancing about, swaying her arms about, laughing and giggling. She, of course, believed that it was the work of the Maker that she and Sten were well again.

"Oh, Wynne! My arm is fine! As if it had never happened!" She laughed skipping around Wynne. Wynne wasn't impressed and glared at her.

"Child, please!"

"Leliana, do as Wynne asks, before she dies from worry!" Alistair said, joking with Wynne, though she didn't appreciate it much.

"Alright, alright," Leliana sighed, falling back in line, placing her arm in the sling again.

"Ser!" One of the guards shouted from behind them. Everyone turned around. Two of the guards were knelt down, Kyra lying on the floor.

"Maker!" Wynne rushed to her side.

"Is she alright?" Alistair asked, kneeling down.

"I…I don't know…" Wynne pressed her hand against Kyra's forehead, "She seems alright." Alistair had noticed that when Kyra joined them earlier in the morning, she had seemed…different. Like the morning in the Brecilian Forest. Her eyes were foggy and unclear, and she had dark circles around her eyes as if she hadn't slept in days. Alistair had noticed that she had seemed weak and disorientated too. But when he asked her about it, she had dismissed it as nothing.

"Lay her down in the back of Bodhan's cart," Wynne suggest. Alistair picked Kyra up and laid her gently down in the space the dwarves and cleared out for her. Alistair looked worriedly at Wynne, and even at Morrigan.

"There's nothing more we can do," Wynne replied, Morrigan nodding in agreement, "We should keep going."

Alistair walked along with Bodhan and Sandal, keeping a watchful eye on Kyra all the way.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

It was a crisp, cool night as they sat around the camp fire eating dinner that Morrigan and Wynne had cooked up. They had set up came in a clearing, just off the road. Everyone felt a little bit safer with Arl Eamon's guards around. Alistair finished his bowl of stew. He turned around and looked at the tent Kyra was in. She hadn't stirred one bit the whole day, and frankly, Alistair was worried. He filled up another bowl and stood up, thinking to try his luck to see if he could wake her.

He entered the tent, Kyra still sleeping in the same position they had left her in. Alistair lit a candle as to see better. He sat down beside Kyra, the warm stew next to him. The light softly lit her face, and Alistair found himself tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She looked peaceful and calm. Alistair chuckled to himself…in the months that Kyra had been with them, Alistair formed the idea that she was like a dragon. A High Dragon to be more precise. She was tough and resilient and her words could burn just as painful as any fire or sword. She was someone to be feared and also respected. But she also had this fire in soul that few people had, this spark that never went out, no matter how it flickered. She too was…majestic like the dragon. Alistair found himself captivated with her, by the way she moved in battle, graceful but deadly, by her intelligence, by her unique and rare beauty. She was almost like an enigma, a puzzle, a story that had yet to be read.

Alistair's train of though was interrupted. Kyra stirred, moving underneath the blankets.

"Kyra?" Alistair whispered. She eyes opened and shut a few times, as she grew accustomed to the light.

"Alistair?" She asked, rubbing her eyes. He couldn't help but smile at the way she said his name.

"I brought you something to eat," he said, picking up the stew. Kyra sat up, the dark rings around her eyes less prominent now.

"You shouldn't have…Thank you," she took the bowl from him, cupping it in her hands. Alistair watched as she ate, spoonful after spoonful. She looked alright, but Alistair just didn't know.

"Are you alright?"

Kyra slowed, hesitating. She looked at him and studying his eyes.

"Yes, I'm…fine."

"You collapsed in the middle of the road. I wouldn't call that fine. What happened?"

Kyra wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him the truth. She felt safe in his gaze, in the warmth of his hazel eyes. She didn't know why but she did. She trusted him. She felt that perhaps that he would understand. But she couldn't bring herself to utter the words. Instead, she shrugged, eating another spoonful. Alistair gave a heavy sigh. He took the empty bowl from Kyra before standing to leave.

"You know…" He turned to her, "you can tell me what's going on. I know we don't know each other very well…but out of everyone here, I feel like I can trust you, Kyra."

"Thank you, Alistair…" Kyra smiled at him, "but I'm fine. Really." Alistair sighed again before leaving. Kyra lay back down, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She lay for a long time just thinking…thinking about a lot of things. She then reached out for her pack and pulled out Elissa's journal. Kyra knew she shouldn't actually be reading it, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.

"…_in the midst of all this chaos, there is but one thing that is keeping me firmly to the ground. One person, I should say. Alistair; oddly charming with his awkwardness and wit, not to mention devilishly handsome looks. If mother could see me now she'd halt the entire Blight, just so that we could be married! It may have been only a few months…but it is impossible not to like him. He's always smiling and jesting…he always has the words that make me laugh when I don't even want to smile. Sometimes it is difficult for me to see how he could ever be king! Even when I mask my feelings so well that no one else notices, he looks right at me and knows. Knows that something is wrong, that something is weighing heavy on my heart. Perhaps the taint in our blood binds us in more ways than one. I don't know…I am just forever grateful that he is here with me. Together we are the last Grey Wardens, the two last souls sworn to stop the Archdemon. I don't think I would have made it this far without the man. He is forever watching over my shoulder…but all I can think is who is watching over his?"_

_

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**Author's Notes: **I'm not compeletely satisfied with how this chapter came out. It feels...choppy and inconsistent. I don't know...I guess I'm not over my writer's block yet. I might go over it again and redo it...I'm not sure. Do you guys have any suggestions? Things I should add/change/remove? It doesn't feel finished.

And I really fucking hate it when my changes don't get saved. Excuse my language.


	13. Chapter 13: Dark Secrets

Chapter Thirteen: Dark Secrets

Kyra walked at the back of the group, reading through Elissa's diary.

"And what are you reading, my dear?" a smooth voice called over to her. Kyra looked up and saw Zevran easily matching his pace with hers.

"Nothing," she responded, closing the book, but placing a finger as not to lose her place. Zevran gave her a smirk.

"Nothing? Then why do you hide it?" Kyra watched his moves, but before she could stop him he had whirled behind her and snatched the book out of her hands. He held it up in triumph, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Now, now, let us see what we have here," he was about to flip the cover open but Kyra grabbed hold of his wrist.

"Give it back, Zevran." He looked at her, the mischief was gone, and instead she could see that he was searching for answers. A faint smile crossed his lips.

"I already know what this is, Kyra," he replied. Her grip tightened around the elf's wrist. He held the book out and she took it from him, releasing him.

"You shouldn't be reading that," he told her. She was surprised by the serious tone in his voice.

"You are an assassin, Zevran, your job is to study people, know them; know their secrets. I doubt you would have passed up the opportunity if it was _you_ who had come across this book."

"Perhaps," Zevran shrugged, "but Elissa did not carry secrets. To be honest, she was an open book." Zevran gave a quiet chuckle, "She tried so hard to hide her feelings, and perhaps she could from everyone else, but I could catch her eye for a moment and I could read every thought running through her mind." Zevran looked at Kyra, who looked away.

"You, on the other hand…" Kyra could feel his eyes watching her, "you are practiced and well experienced in the art of deceiving and manipulation, hiding who you really are. You hold many, many secrets."

"Everyone has secrets, Zevran, and I don't deceive or manipulate. I just choose not to spill my heart and soul to those who are just fleeting strangers," Kyra replied, placing the Elissa's journal back in her pack, "What does it matter to you anyway?" Zevran laughed.

"So that is what we are? Fleeting strangers? Are we just another group of people who happened to drift through your life, while you stand on the safety of the shore and watch us go by? My dear, you have been with us for months now. I would have thought we were friends by now." Kyra looked at the elf and then her eyes wandered farther up the group to Alistair. She was certain that Zevran had seen, but if he had he did not acknowledge it. Was Zevran right? Were they just another group of temporary faces that would dim and fade once they had parted ways? Kyra felt her heart grow heavy at the thought. This was the closest to friends that Kyra had ever had in her life; a mix-matched group of courageous souls, setting out to do the impossible. Perhaps they were more than just faces…

xxxxxxx

"You've been awfully quiet," Alistair walked up to her, falling in place beside her. She just shrugged and smiled.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, Kyra could hear the tone of worry in his voice.

"Better," she smiled at him, "Thank you." There was a moment of silence between them.

"I assume the Arl has been briefing you on all the kingly things to do once we reach Denerim?" Kyra asked. For most of their journey, he had been at the Arl's side.

"Quite right," Alistair groaned, "Etiquette and proper behaviour, history lessons on all the nobles that would be there. He expects me to play nice with a bunch of snobbish nobles, who each believe that the world revolves around them. I don't think I can do that."

"Would you say the same things about Elissa?" Alistair shot her a glance, "She was a noble too."

"I know…I know. But she was different," Alistair sighed, "She didn't have that air about her. Her head wasn't in the clouds, but firmly back on the ground. She didn't believe herself better than anyone else… If she hadn't told me that she was a Cousland, I doubt I would have ever guessed her to be one. She had a good heart…"

"And so do you. You give yourself far too little credit, Alistair."

"I only give credit where credit is due, Kyra."

"And you don't believe that you deserve any? Look how far you've brought us, look at how much you've accomplished…" Alistair looked away from her, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead.

"You don't know it yet, Alistair, but you are a natural leader. It's in your blood," She placed a hand on his shoulder, "You'll march into that Landsmeet, flash all those nobles a dashing smile, charm them with your wit and they, and the crown, will be in the palm of your hand." Alistair couldn't help but chuckle.

"The very thought is preposterous!"

"Oh really?" Kyra gave him an incredulous look.

"With this smile, witty charming will not be necessary." Alistair shot her a dashingly handsome smile, striking a pose with his hands on his hips. They both laughed, and for a moment they were nothing more than two young adults having fun.

"I'm pretty sure doing something like that would fall under the Arl's category of 'inappropriate behaviour.' He would be highly displeased," Alistair imitated the Arl, which a frown on his face, wagging his finger. They both laughed again, but were interrupted by one of the guards.

"Halt!" He cried out. Everyone stopped and Alistair looked to the Arl.

"We rest here for the night," He ordered before dismounting his horse.

xxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, the group packed up camp and left perhaps a few hours later than which they should have. One of the guards suggested that they take a short cut through the woods to make up for the lost time. It would save them about half a day. The Arl agreed and they turned off the Imperial Highway following a winding path through the trees. Kyra looked at the bark on the trees and the tracks on the ground. She felt a strong sense of foreboding. She grabbed Alistair's arm as he walked by her.

"We should stick to the Highway," Kyra warned, "Something isn't right."

"What do you mean?" He asked. She looked around her again, taking in the bare branches and the dying shrubs, the echo if birds and the stale smell of the air.

"Tell the Arl to turn around, Alistair," She pleaded him.

"Kyra, everything will be-" Alistair felt the tingling in his blood. He spun around, scanning the small path and the surrounding wood. He looked back at Kyra. Something was very, very wrong.

"Arl! Arl Eamon!" Alistair cried as they both ran to catch up with the rest of the convoy.

"Turn around!" He cried, "We have to get back to the Highway!" Everyone turned around, confused by the sudden uproar.

"What are you talking about, boy?" The Arl turned his horse around, "This road is perfectly-" But before he could finish his sentence an arrow whizzed out from the forest and struck on of the guards squarely in the heart. He collapsed and fell off his horse. Swords were drawn and staffs were held at ready, as the darkspawn emptied out from the surrounding woods. The attack in Ostagar was still very fresh in everyone's mind, and the same sense of fear and surprise washed over them. Kyra sliced her way through two darkspawn before twirling around and plunging her daggers into two more. She rushed over to Morrigan who was being overwhelmed, but was almost knocked to her feet along with the darkspawn as she cast a spell that threw them away from her. The force was so powerful that some cracked their skulls open as they hit trees, others were flung 50 yards away. Kyra quickly finished them off before they could get back on their feet.

"Kyra! Behind you!" She heard Leliana scream. As she turned, a heavy axe came bearing down on her. She managed to dodge the Vanguard's attack, but stumbled to the ground. The darkspawn edged ever closer to her, gurgling in its throat as it laughed. She scrambled, trying to get away, but the Vanguard grabbed her leg before she could get to her feet. Its skin was cold and slimy. The darkspawn placed a foot on her chest, and Kyra tried to stab its leg, but the metal plating armour was too thick. She kicked her legs and struggled to break free from under the darkspawn, but it was a losing battle. Kyra saw the darkspawn raise his axe again, and she stabbed at its legs, desperately looking for a weak spot. Then with a load crash, the Vanguard was caught off guard and toppled over. Kyra watched as Alistair quickly plunged his sword through the creature's chest.

"You okay?" He asked, helping her up. Blood was splattered all over his face.

"I'm alright. Thank you," Kyra tried to catch her breath. Suddenly Alistair's eyes widened and he grabbed Kyra, pulling her close to him and kneeling down on the ground. He lifted his shield and there was a fiery explosion on the other side. Alistair peeked over the edge of his shield.

"Andraste!" He scowled, "It's an emissary." They both stood up, Alistair not noticing that he still held Kyra close to him.

"I've got an idea," He announced and looked at her, "I'll distract him. Go around, through the trees and flank him."

"I like the way you think, good sir," Kyra quickly ran off into the woods, and watched as Alistair played as a distraction. He blocked the emissary's spells with well-timed dodges and blocks with his shield. This only infuriated the emissary even more. Kyra was now exactly behind the emissary. She caught Alistair's eye, who gave her a subtle nod. She charged and drove her daggers deep in the emissary's body. Kyra pulled them out and as the emissary turned around to face its enemy, she sliced the creature's throat with a graceful sweep of her arms.

xxxxxxxxxx

"We must retreat!" Arl Eamon cried, pulling his sword from a darkspawn's lifeless body. The Arl was right, but to where? They were miles from the nearest town. They could either, flee to the Highway and keep running until they had lost the darkspawn or keep fighting; neither had a high chance of success. Kyra watched in disbelief as the darkspawn kept streaming out of the woods. Just as they had thought the last darkspawn had fallen, more would charge out towards them.

"What are we going to do?" Leliana whispered rhetorically, notching another arrow into Kyra's bow which she had given her. Kyra didn't know. Only one of Arl Eamon's guards was still alive, Oghren and Morrigan were both badly hurt, Wynne, Leliana and Sten were just fighting to protect them. Kyra and Alistair were fighting to protect the Arl. Everyone was tired, wounded and outnumbered at least four to one. The outcome looked bleak.

Kyra dodged an attack and stabbed the darkspawn between the eyes. She withdrew her blade and sliced her way through another two darkspawn. She looked up to see Alistair standing very still, in the midst of all this battle. The expression on her face was one of agony. She looked in the direction he was and instantly knew why. Two ogres were lumbering up to them. Before anyone was ready, the ogres were upon them, swatting away attackers like flies. A blood curdling cry went out as one of the ogres picked up the last guard and tore him apart. The other then went to charging, knocking the Arl, Wynne and Sten all of their feet. Leliana lay unconscious next to a tree, Zevran trying to haul her body out of the way. One of the ogres slammed his fists into the earth, causing Alistair to lose his footing and fall. He managed to roll out of the way just in time as the ogre brought down his fists again. The fear started to rise in Kyra, a fear that she hardly ever felt. It was the realization that if something drastic didn't happen, they would all perish. Kyra was rooted to the spot, unable to move, her mind racing. She knew what she had to do…she didn't like the consequences, but she had to do it. She gripped her daggers tightly as her mind still raced to find an alternative. She watched as another wave of darkspawn came out of the woods. There was no other option. Kyra took up her dagger and swiftly cut the palms of her hands. She knelt down and placed her hands firmly on the ground.


	14. Chapter 14: Blood on Your Hands

Chapter Fourteen: Blood on Your Hands

Alistair scrambled to his feet, sword and shield at ready. The ogre charged at him and he managed to dodge and slice the tendons in the ogre's legs. It was a trick he'd discovered to easily kill an ogre; the only flaw was that it was difficult to find the perfect time to strike. The ogre's legs collapsed underneath it and swatted angrily at Alistair, sending him smashing into a tree. The wind was knocked out of him. He used his sword to push him back onto his feet, drawing in a deep breath. He walked over to the ogre who was trying to get back on its feet. He raised his sword and slammed it down into the ogre's back; the creature bellowed and thrashed around as Alistair twisted the sword, burying it deeper into its spine. It collapsed onto the ground again and Alistair withdrew his sword and plunged it into its skull, just to make sure that it died. He turned around as a new wave of darkspawn came at them. His heart sunk into his stomach. This couldn't be happening. He felt the memories of Ostagar flood back into his head…of the battle and the tower of Ishal, how Elissa and he had been completely overwhelmed by the darkspawn. The memories of the recent surprise attack were still raw and still scared him.

He searched the battle field for Kyra. Suddenly he spotted her…crouching on the ground. At first he thought that she was injured, but then he saw her lips moving.

"Kyra!" He shouted to her, running a hurlock through, but she didn't react. She was just crouching there, and the darkspawn were running past her, as if she was invisible. Suddenly many of the darkspawn in the area stiffened and fell quiet as if they had turned into stone. Then, in a horrible chorus, they let out howls and cries of agony. They still didn't move, but just stood in one place crying and howling in extreme pain. Alistair had no idea what was going on…and the sound that the darkspawn made…was most unnerving. Some of the darkspawn fell to the floor, dead, others stood fast. Alistair looked to Kyra who was standing up. He was about to call out to her, but then she turned to him. She held out her hands, and he could see that both palms were cut, and her eyes had rolled back into her skull, her mouth still moving. He watched as she walked closer him, and he could hear that she was saying. Alistair didn't understand the language that she was whispering in…it sounded old, some lost language or tongue…he didn't know.

Her whispering intensified and Alistair watched in horror as the whites of her eyes turned blood red. The sound of the darkspawn grew louder. Then tears started streaming down her face, tears of blood. The blood streamed down her cheeks and down her neck, but she kept on. Alistair turned to the darkspawn, they had begun bleeding from every orphic; nose, ears and eyes. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The last darkspawn fell to the ground, their blood pooled around their bodies. The last ogre bellowed and beat the ground. Kyra turned her attention to it. She waved her hands and a blood red orb appeared between her hands. The ogre prepared to charge and Kyra released the spell. The orb surrounded the creature, almost like chains, and it instantly started screaking in pain. A strange smell filled the air and Alistair suddenly realized that it was burning flesh…the burning flesh of the ogre. The creature struggled, pointlessly, before crashing to the ground, deep burns all over its body. The few darkspawn that were left were quickly slaughtered. Alistair looked back at Kyra, who stood still and was still whispering to herself. He was still trying to figure out what had happened. Kyra fell to her knees as Alistair drew his sword out of the last darkspawn. Kyra looked around her, all the darkspawn were dead. She felt light-headed and her head spun. She heard the crunching of heavy boots on the soil, but didn't look up as she saw a drop of blood on the ground. She touched her nose and looked at the blood on her fingertips. Suddenly a hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked up…it was Alistair. He had a horrified and angry scowl on his face. He opened her hand and then the other, but she the cuts were gone, not even a scar; as if they had never been there. Kyra looked up at him, his eyes blazing with fury. He opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He spun around. It was Wynne.

"Not now, Alistair," she said to him sternly. She motioned to him to see to the rest of his companions. Alistair looked back down at Kyra. The contempt on his face…if looks could kill, Kyra would have died tenfold.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The night was cold and icy, like the atmosphere that hung over the group and the looks she received from them. No one dared hold eye contact with her for more than a few seconds. Even Oghren and Sten…ones that she thought didn't care for what the rest of the group thought. Alistair nor Wynne even acknowledged her presence. Even the Arl was wary of her…she had caught his eye for a moment and the look he had given her was not one of contempt or anger…but one of disappointment.

Kyra pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and drew the blankets in tighter around her. She sat on the far side of the bonfire, separating herself from the rest of the group. No one of the Arl's guards had survived the attack. They hadn't been trained to fight darkspawn, let alone ogres. Her body felt weak and empty, she was more mentally tired than physically. Her eyes hung heavy but sleep would not come easily for her tonight.

She watched as Morrigan stood up and walked over to her. Kyra was surprised as she sat down next to her, with a friendly smile on her face.

"That was quite a display today," She smiled, seemingly genuinely happy. Kyra didn't reply, she didn't really want to. She knew that the consequences would be severe and that she could possibly break any trust her new friends had in her.

"I always knew that you were capable of magic," Morrigan said, smirking, "But _blood magic_? Where did you learn this?"

"During my travels I met a magician, a man of optical illusions and slight of hand. But he was more than that. He was a blood mage. He never used his powers, only in times of dire need. He taught me how to do blood magic," Kyra turned to face Morrigan, "He taught me how to use blood magic, not to destroy, but how to protect yourself, how to heal yourself and others. He taught me how to use it for _good_."

"And that is exactly what you have done. You saved all our lives." Kyra just shook her head and looked over to Alistair. Morrigan scoffed.

"Do not bother yourself with them. They do not understand and cannot appreciate blood magic. Tis not the _magic_ they fear, but the consequences of its use: the risk of turning into an abomination and losing control. _That _is what they truly fear."

"That won't happen…I take every possible measure against it."

Morrigan shrugged, "That is not to say it won't happen…but enough of that. Would you mind?" Morrigan pulled off the bandage Wynne had wrapped around her arm.

"Wynne is good at healing, but what you can do is extraordinary." Kyra did not mind helping. She picked up her dagger and cut her palm once more and placing it over Morrigan's wound. She closed her eyes and focused her energy. Moments later the wound was closed and all that was left was a scar. Morrigan ran her fingers over the skin, mesmerized.

"Tis truly amazing!" She smiled at Kyra, "Thank you, friend." Kyra was glad to see that she still had one person who was on her side. There was a commotion on the other side of camp, Kyra looked up and she could see Alistair disagree with Wynne over something. He gently pushed her aside and walked in her direction. Wynne gave an exasperated look. Kyra held Alistair's gaze as he marched up to her, an angry scowl across his face.

"Blood magic? _This_ is what you've been hiding? From me, from all of us? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?"

"You ungrateful fool!" Morrigan spat, standing up and confronting Alistair, "She saved your life, _all_ if our lives! And this is how your repay her? By giving a moral lecture on things you know nothing of?"

"Hold your tongue, Morrigan, or maybe this time I shall cut it out."

"I should like to see you try, Warden." Morrigan's hand glowed red with a fireball.

"It's alright, Morrigan," Kyra stood up and touched her friend on the shoulder. Morrigan took the gesture as her sign to leave. She pushed passed Alistair, but not before giving him an icy glare.

"Bitch…" Alistair grumbled under his breath. Kyra bit her tongue.

"You lied to me, Kyra. You lied to all of us. Not only are you a thief, but an apostate, a mal…" Alistair looked away. He could bear to speak of it.

"I never lied to anyone! I did no such thing!"

"Well, you never told me about it either!"

"To avoid this very conversation that is why!"

"Do you even know how _dangerous_ blood magic is?"

Kyra gritted her teeth, "Morrigan was right. Who are you to come and lecture me about blood magic? You know nothing of it!"

"I know enough!" Alistair shouted back, "I was _there_ when the Circle of Magi was utterly destroyed by one blood mage! I watched as he turned his friends, his colleges into abominations! I listened to their cries of agony, of pain…and there was _nothing_ I could do to help them, apart from driving my swords through their hearts and releasing them from the prison they had been put it. That is why the Templars and the Circle of Magi exist to ensure that mages do _not _get out of hand."

"So what? You think I'll control your mind and turn _you _into an abomination, hmm? What kind of person do you think me to be? I only use my powers to _help_ others. I used it to heal Zevran's arm in the Brecilian Forest, to heal Leliana and Sten, to save your life, Alistair."

"You shouldn't be using it at all!"

It was like speaking to a wall! She spoke but her words just bounced off. Alistair refused to see reason, to even try and see it from her perspective.

"Then we all would have died and _everything_ you have accomplished until now would have been in vain. Is that what you would have wanted?"

"No, of course not-"

"Then why are you even objecting to it?"

"Because it's dangerous, Kyra! That's why!"

She gritted her teeth again, closing her eyes, trying to rein in her frustration, but she couldn't. Alistair just didn't understand.

"So what if it is? It poses no risk to you! I saved your life, you should be more grateful! Perhaps next time I should just _let_ the darkspawn maul you all!" Alistair just looked at her, stunned, "Perhaps if you weren't so blind with fear, Conor would still be alive."

"What?"

"It's because of _your_ complete and utter dread of blood magic that Conor had to die. Isolde could have still saved him, but you wouldn't allow it. So Elissa had no choice, but to kill him."

Alistair's eyes flared and he marched right up to her. Kyra thought that he was going to hit her.

"You know _nothing_ of what went on with Conor. Nothing!" He spat at her.

"Nothing?" She spun around and dug in her bag, "Read this and then tell me nothing!" She threw Elissa's diary at Alistair, hitting him and falling to the ground.

"You were the one who absolutely refused to have anything to do with blood magic! You blamed her for Conor's death, as if she actually had a choice! First enchanter Irving was dead and you refused to let her use blood magic. So she did what she thought was the right thing. And then you condemned her for it!" Kyra shouted in a fit of rage, "You blamed her and now you're blaming me."

Alistair was silent, flipping through the pages of the diary and going over the pages.

"I don't blame her…" He whispered, reading an entry, "I don't blame her…" He looked up at Kyra, his face ashen. She looked back at him, her fists still curled, still trying to calm herself. He looked back down at the diary in his hands, touching the faces.

"I…I didn't know she felt this way…"

"Then perhaps you should take your companions into greater consideration." Kyra watched as Alistair sat heavily down onto the ground, still shocked by the diary. She studied his sullen face and sad eyes and slowly felt the anger subside. She knew she'd been cruel to him…using his dead lover in their argument. Kyra sighed heavily and walked over to him. She kneeled down next to him and he looked up at her.

"I'm sorry that you disapprove so much of blood magic, but I did what I thought was right, Alistair. If I hadn't done what I did, we'd all be dead and gutted by the darkspawn. I'm only human…I'm only trying to do what was right…"

Alistair held her gaze for a few moments, before he solemnly nodded his head, turning his attention back to Elissa's diary. Kyra stood back up and turned to leave the man to himself.

"She loved you a great deal, Alistair," Kyra said, before she left, "She didn't blame you either and forgave you. She loved you more than you'll ever know."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, but I had so many problems with the ending! Ugh. Even now I'm not satisfied with this ending. The beginning was fine, but I just couldn't get the ending to play out as I wanted it to.

I apologize!


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